I love Fiona Apple but sometimes I see meme references or vague comments that make reference to her having a big ego..? I see references to her being controversial but it's as if there is context to this I'm missing here? Is it satire, sarcasm?...I knew nothing more about her except her music and that she had experienced a traumatic incident in her teenage years and well, I can't find much context about it. Off the bat she seems really well spoken from the interviews I found just now. I just hyperfixated on it today, I read the poem I read her wikipedia page read some other stuff I'm just lost.
Just need some context if any fank you. Like did she do something controversial or say something controversial..?

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

"Spirituality is what you make of it, whether that's on an individual or community level. Religion can do harm, but it doesn’t have to, so long as its leaders and its believers are willing to embrace uncertainty. In this way, at least, science and religion can find some common ground. [...]
Would Christianity collapse if their leaders recognized that some of their flock don’t fit into the gender identities described in their holy texts, or that human intervention is required to undo human-made damage to the Earth? Probably not, and their inflexibility is only doing harm to their community. It’s not necessary to hold onto harmful policies or practices, nor is it necessary to throw out an entire system of beliefs because of new, contradictory, or unanticipated information."
Dylan Roth (Polygon)
Link:
https://www.polygon.com/24151113/star-trek-discovery-religion-whistlespeak
Quotes:
POLYGON: "Star Trek’s future is a secular one. Franchise creator Gene Roddenberry was an avowed atheist, and the series and its spin-offs have routinely criticized organized religion as manipulative, illogical, and detrimental to the evolution of a society. Individual members of the human race may have an undefined spirituality, a curiosity about the afterlife, or a sense of wonder at the unknown or unknowable, but specific religious beliefs are typically reserved for alien cultures.
But, if Trek’s fervently pro-science and anti-superstition has remained constant, so have the attempts by different storytellers within the franchise to approach religion from other, more tolerant angles. And the latest episode of Star Trek: Discovery, “Whistlespeak,” may present Trek’s most even-handed take on faith to date.
[...]
The streaming era of Star Trek under executive producer Alex Kurtzman, which began in 2017, has seen some new, minor references to religious practices in human society. For example, an unnamed background character serving aboard the USS Cerritos on Star Trek: Lower Decks can be seen wearing a hijab, indicating that some semblance of Islamic tradition is still observed in the 24th century. Not long after we meet Captain Christopher Pike during the second season of Star Trek: Discovery, we learn that his father taught both science and comparative religion.
But “Whistlespeak,” which comes midway through Discovery’s fifth and final season, returns fully to the Original Series’ territory of a classic “weird alien religion” episode, and with a much more multi-faceted approach. Captain Burnham and her crew visit the planet Halem’no. which is nigh-uninhabitable except within the radius of a tower-like device that was secretly installed by a Federation scientist centuries earlier. The planet’s surviving inhabitants are a peaceful and friendly pre-warp civilization who believe that the towers are temples built by their gods.
[...]
Though Starfleet officers are forbidden to interfere in the development of pre-warp civilizations, Burnham isn’t about to let Tilly (or Ravah) die to satisfy some arcane ritual. However, rather than tearing the whole society down like Kirk might have done, Burnham appeals directly to the community’s leader — Ravah’s father, Ohvahz — and implores him to stop the sacrifices, explaining the tower will do its work whether or not his child gives their life. Ohvahz is, naturally, open to the idea of not killing his child, but fears that revealing that their temple is actually an alien artifact will shatter his community and lead to violent conflict. What is their civilization without their faith and traditions?
“Better off,” is how Picard would probably answer. But Burnham’s response is more measured.
“There is still what you believe. Nothing we’ve shown you means gods don’t exist… it’s just that you know that there’s also us… Beliefs can evolve. Denying that can cause almost as much chaos as the worst storm.”
It’s probably no accident that Ravah, the teenager who’s supposed to be sacrificed in this episode, is gender non-binary, a trait which is not controversial for the Halem’nites but is condemned by many conservative religious groups here on present-day Earth. There’s also a parallel to the climate crisis, as the Halem’nites will need to learn to maintain the alien weather tower in order to keep their world safe. Would Christianity collapse if their leaders recognized that some of their flock don’t fit into the gender identities described in their holy texts, or that human intervention is required to undo human-made damage to the Earth? Probably not, and their inflexibility is only doing harm to their community. It’s not necessary to hold onto harmful policies or practices, nor is it necessary to throw out an entire system of beliefs because of new, contradictory, or unanticipated information.
Meanwhile, aboard Discovery, Dr. Hugh Culber has been trying to make sense of his own spiritual awakening, a feeling of connection to a higher power that has lingered with him since an out-of-body experience on a recent away mission. As a scientist, Culber’s first instinct is to investigate, understand, and catalog this sensation, but the explanation eludes him. He seeks the advice of his friend Cleveland Booker, a non-human with his own spiritual life, who essentially asks him, “Why do you need to understand it?” With this guidance, Culber decides that the value of his new spirituality is in how it feels, not where it comes from.
The approach to religion in “Whistlespeak” does not broadly condemn religion like The Original Series or The Next Generation, or rationalize and tolerate faith as a quirk of the other, like Deep Space Nine. Instead, “Whistlespeak” questions why a philosophy that is rooted in the unknowable should be attached to absolutes. Spirituality is what you make of it, whether that’s on an individual or community level. Religion can do harm, but it doesn’t have to, so long as its leaders and its believers are willing to embrace uncertainty. In this way, at least, science and religion can find some common ground."
Dylan Roth (Polygon)
Link:
https://www.polygon.com/24151113/star-trek-discovery-religion-whistlespeak

"I played major league baseball for parts of 10 years, and I played in the magnificent city of New York, and as a child in St. Croix that was beyond dreams. Yes, I am a happy man." -- Horace Clarke
The worst stretch of Yankee baseball since the Highlander days, the mid 60s to the mid 70s, is remembered by those who lived through it as the Horace Clarke Era. Unfairly or not, the bespectacled switch-hitting middle infielder from the U.S. Virgin Islands came to symbolize all that was wrong with the Yankees in those sad years.
Horace Meredith Clarke grew up on the island of St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands. He was just the fifth player from the U.S. Virgin Islands to play in the majors, and the first Yankee. His father had grown up playing cricket, and because there were no youth baseball leagues on the island, young Horace played softball. He said he didn't see his first baseball game until around age 13, when he saw some U.S. Navy sailors playing.

“We were poor kids in St. Croix. We played on a field which was right on the ocean and had no fences. We couldn’t afford baseballs. So the coach made the lefthanded batters hit righthanded and the righthanded batters hit lefthanded. This was so they couldn’t hit the ball so far. It saved us from losing the baseballs in the ocean.”

Clarke was spotted by a Yankee scout in the Caribbean and assigned to the lowest run of the Yankee farm system -- the Kearney Yankees in Class D ball. Imagine being an 18-year-old kid from St. Croix in the Caribbean, and arriving in Kearney, Nebraska in the spring of 1958. The culture shock must have been overwhelming. Maybe not surprisingly, Clarke hit a disappointing .225/.322/.283 in 187 at-bats. He said the biggest adjustment wasn't the cold weather, but night games played under the lights, something he'd never done before.
The following year Horace was in the Florida State League, and he thrived in the warmer weather, hitting .293/.375/.366 in 571 at-bats. He also stole 34 bases that year. The year after that, he was back up north, playing for Fargo in the Northern League, and hit .307/.389/.369 in 537 at-bats. The following year was Amarillo in the Texas League, where he hit .300/.364/.429.
Then the next three years in the International League, where he hit .281/.345/.352 in 1,494 at-bats while playing shortstop and second base.
But despite Clarke's promise, he was blocked by Bobby Richardson. By the time Clarke had reached Triple-A at age 24 in 1963, the 27-year-old Richardson had already been a four-time All-Star, a two-time Gold Glove winner, and had won three World Series rings... plus the MVP for the 1960 World Series, the only time in baseball history a player for the losing team won the award!
But the Yankees knew Richardson was planning on retiring, so they kept Clarke waiting in the wings. He opened the year with the Toledo Mud Hens, then the Yankees' Triple-A team, and then after a month he finally got the call to the show.
Fifty-nine years ago today, on May 13, 1965, Clarke was sent up to the plate in the 7th inning as a pinch hitter to make his major league debut in a game the Yankees were losing, 4-1, to the Boston Red Sox in Fenway Park.
Clarke, facing Dave Morehead, beat out an infield single. It was a promising beginning. But, as if scripted to be symbolic of his career, Clarke's success was short-lived as the next batter bounced into a fielder's choice. Forced out at second base, Clarke watched the rest of the game from the dugout. The next day he'd get the start and go 0-for-4.
Hitting .250/.298/.269 at the end of June as a utility infielder, Clarke was sent back down to Toledo for two months to get more regular playing time. It helped. When he returned on September 3 -- coincidentally, also against the Red Sox -- he went 3-for-5 with an RBI. Overall that month, Clarke hit .273/.298/.327, and for the season, .262/.298/.299 in 115 plate appearances. But the Yankees, the reigning A.L. champions for the past five seasons, finished a shocking 77-85, all the way in sixth place.
That off-season, Phil Linz -- the harmonica playing utility infielder -- was traded to the Phillies, opening up a roster spot for Clarke. Richardson, though only 31, had told the Yankees he would retire at the end of the 1966 season, and the Yankees wanted him to mentor Clarke as his successor.
Clarke started just seven games over the first half, but a series of injuries forced him into regular service. Over the second half, he played almost every day, hitting .276/.334/.404 in 300 plate appearances. He was mostly used at shortstop, where his defense wasn't great, but in 16 games at second base he looked good enough that the Yankees were confident he could be a regular there. Yankee fans were no doubt a little sad when Richardson officially announced to the press on August 31 that it was his last season, but at least we knew who would be playing second base the following year.
Indeed, second base was the least of the Yankees' problems. New York finished dead last at 70-89 in 1966, the team's worst performance since 1925, as injuries fell Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Elston Howard, and Whitey Ford.
Entering 1967 as the starting second baseman, Clarke hit a solid .272/.321/.316 (94 OPS+) in 633 plate appearances while leading the league in fielding percentage, assists, and range factor as a second baseman. He also stole 21 bases in 25 tries, a second-best .840 SB%. His 3.7 bWAR that year was better than any season Richardson ever had -- his career high was 3.2 bWAR in 1962.
The following year, the Yankees finished 83-79 -- above .500 for the first time in four seasons -- but a whopping 34.5 games out. Clarke had one of the worst years of his career, hitting .230/.258/.254 (60 OPS+) as he played through injuries all year.
He rebounded in 1969 to .285/.339/.467 (101 OPS+), with 33 stolen bases. It was, statistically, the best season of his career (3.9 bWAR). But once again the Yankees were terrible -- 28.5 games out.
In 1970, Clarke again disappointed, hitting .251/.286/.309 (68 OPS+). The Yankees won 93 games that year, but it amounted to naught as the Orioles ran away with the pennant, going 108-54 to win it by 15 games. In fact, it was pretty much over by July, with the Yankees 7 games out at the All-Star break.
It was around this time that Yankee fans began focusing their frustration on Clarke. One New York sportswriter routinely referred to him as "Horrible Horace". Miscast as a leadoff man -- he had a career .308 OBP -- and criticized for "bailing out" on double plays, manager Ralph Houk years later offered a tepid defense of his second baseman:

“I know I got a lot of criticism for playing Horace Clarke as much as I did, but he was a lot better ballplayer than anyone gave him credit for. He did a lot of things good but nothing great, and that was his problem. Besides, I didn’t have anyone else.”

The lack of a replacement was certainly an issue. In 1971, there was talk in The Sporting News about a prospect named Fred Frazier being the heir apparent to Clarke at second base. That year, Frazier hit a disappointing .261/.316/.313 in Triple-A; the next year, .216/.302/.281. The year after that, he was in the Orioles organization. He never made it out of the minors.
In fact, Clarke was the only constant in the Yankee infield in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The Yankees during the, ahem, Horace Clarke Era had holes everywhere, with a revolving door at first base, third base, and shortstop. For five years, from 1967 to 1971, Clarke was the Opening Day starter at second base; during that same stretch, there were five different third basemen, five different third basemen, and three different shortstops. Between 1967 and 1973, he started 1,017 games at second base, or 90% of all Yankee games.
But that, explained Yankees PR man Marty Appel, was kind of the problem. "Fans especially didn’t like the second baseman, the beleaguered Horace Clarke, whose major flaw seemed to be longevity. It wasn’t his fault that no one better came along, and he was a better player than the fans gave him credit for. But because he was out there, year after year, he came to stand for this disappointing run by the club."

"I always did my best. I always played as hard as I could. I never was concerned about how the fans reacted to me." -- Horace Clarke

The following year Clarke hit .250/.321/.318 in 696 plate appearances, but the Yankees again were out of it, finishing 82-80 in 1971.
Yankee fans had been miserable since 1965, but frustration with the team in general -- and Clarke in particular -- reached a boiling point in 1972. It had been seven years since the Yankees had been in the post-season, and 1972 was the first year the Yankees had the playoffs within our grasp since winning the pennant in 1964. (The "closest and latest" the Yankees had been since the 1965 season was 9 games out of 1st place on September 8, 1970.)
On September 12, 1972, the Yankees were a half-game out of 1st place at 74-64, with 17 games left to go in the season. The Red Sox were in 1st at 73-62, the Orioles tied with New York at 74-64, and the Tigers a half-game behind at 73-64. Over the rest of the season, the Yankees went a heartbreaking 5-12, while the Tigers won 13 out of 19 to win the A.L. East.
There was plenty of blame to go around for that collapse, but Yankee fans were particularly irate at Clarke, who hit .225/.267/.296 during those final 17 games.
To his credit, Clarke never complained about the boos from fans or the criticism in the press. As quoted by Dick Young in the New York Daily News in 1972:

"Sure, I would feel bad when I saw in the papers that, 'the Yankees can never win the pennant with that guy at second base.' But why get mad. I figure that's his opinion, and he's entitled to it. I must have been able to do something. Don't tell me a ballplayer can fool a manager for seven years."

Years later, Thurman Munson said his adversarial relationship with the media was based on how Horace Clarke was treated.
In 1973, the 34-year-old Clarke hit .263/.317/.308 (80 OPS+), his defense was no longer among the league leaders, and the Yankees were once again double-digit games behind by Labor Day.
It was finally time to move on. That off season, the Yankees acquired 23-year-old utility infielder Jim Mason from the Texas Rangers and installed him as the starting shortstop for the upcoming 1974 season; Gene Michael, the Yankees' on-again, off-again shortstop since 1968, was moved to second base; and Clarke to the bench. It wasn't exactly an earth-shattering move -- Mason was coming off a season in which he hit .206/.273/.290, and Michael .225/.270/.278. If anything, the two represented a substantial downgrade from Clarke's numbers. (By bWAR the previous season, Clarke was still the best option of the three, 0.6 compared to Mason's -0.7 and Michael's -0.9.)
After hitting .234/.294/.255 in 53 plate appearances as a pinch hitter and spot starter, on May 31, 1974, the Yankees finally ended the Horace Clarke Era by selling his contract to the San Diego Padres along with minor league pitcher Lowell Palmer for $25,000. At the time of the deal, Clarke was still the Yankees' best option at second base as Mason was hitting .214/.287/.307 and Michael a putrid .134/.224/.179!
Six weeks later, the Yankees tried to address their second base problem again by acquiring former All-Star Sandy Alomar from the Angels. Alomar, who fathered major leaguers Sandy Jr. and Roberto, played for the Yankees for the next two and a half seasons, hitting .248/.287/.302... again, worse than Horace's career average of .256/.308/.313.
And yet getting rid of Horace Clarke immediately turned around the Yankees' fortunes. With Horace, the Yankees were 23-27, the worst record in the American League; without him, a second-best 66-46. New York finished 89-73, just two games behind the Baltimore Orioles.
The Yankees finally found a solution to the second base problem on December 11, 1975, trading previously forgotten Yankee Doc Medich to the Pirates for Dock Ellis, Ken Brett, and a 20-year-old prospect named Willie Randolph.
Meanwhile, Clarke went to San Diego and hit .189/.255/.200 in 99 plate appearances. He was released at the end of the season and retired. He was a frequent attendee at Yankee Old Timers' Games, and promoted baseball in the U.S. Virgin Islands. He died at age 81 on August 5, 2020, from complications due to Alzheimer's disease.
The Clarke Side

• Horace's nickname was "Hoss". Yankee play-by-play man Bill White loved to draw out the "s" sound.
  
• Clarke had a reputation of being timid on double plays -- the team's pitchers thought he was apt to hold onto the ball and hop aside rather than try to get off a throw if it meant getting barreled over by the runner. (And in those days, runners came in hard -- just ask Willie Randolph!) Yankee pitchers complained to the press about it, and fans started watching for such plays. Any time the 175-pound Clarke didn't complete a double play, the boo birds came out. To be fair, despite his reputation as being afraid of contact, Clarke led the league in double plays turned as a second baseman in 1969 and again in 1971, and finished in the top five every year he was a regular.
  
• Clarke was the last Yankee to live within walking distance of Yankee Stadium, at the Grand Concourse Hotel. His commute to work was a three-block walk... which could be a problem sometimes. Sportswriter Dick Young reported Clarke had an awkward moment when a fan, "this kid, maybe 11 or 12," walked up and asked: "Hey Hoss, how come you can't make the double play?" Clarke replied: "Well, we can't all be stars. I guess I'm just a lousy ballplayer."
  
• Clarke had an unusual batting stance, a throwback to the Deadball Era. He stood with his legs far apart and he choked up high on the bat. Not surprisingly, he had just 27 home runs in 5,243 career plate appearances... but apparently all of them were of the over-the-fence variety.
  
• The first of those 27 home runs was a grand slam! It was off Floyd Weaver of the Cleveland Indians on September 21, 1965. The two-out grand slam in the 4th inning helped power the Yankees to a 9-4 win.
  
• And Clarke's second career home run? Another grand slam! It came on July 16, 1966. Clarke came up with the bases loaded and one out in the top of the 10th of a 5-5 game. Clarke crushed Jack Aker's offering to deep right to clear the bases and give the Yankees a 9-5 lead; Pedro Ramos pitched a perfect 9th to preserve the victory. Whitey Ford, who had entered the game in the 9th inning in relief, got the win. Clarke's first and second home runs were the only grand slams of his career!
  
• Aker was later Clarke's teammate with the Yankees from 1969 to 1972, and the sinkerballing reliever was one of the pitchers who criticized Horace about bailing out on double plays.
  
• Long before John Olerud made it cool, Horace sometimes wore a batting helmet while playing the field. He never explained why; some speculated it was because he'd once been hit in the head by a thrown ball.
  
• Clarke said he grew up listening to Yankee games on the radio, and Phil Rizzuto -- a similarly undersized infielder -- was his favorite player. Horace was 11 years old when the Scooter won the A.L. MVP in 1950.
  
• Mickey Mantle, his knees shot, moved to first base for the final two years of his career. Clarke, the regular second baseman both of those seasons, said that Mantle told him to get every ball he could. Horace led the league in range factor as a second baseman both of those seasons.
  
• The Sporting News reported on March 14, 1970, that Clarke had a "novel twist" during salary negotiations for the upcoming 1970 season. He told the Yankees he'd take less money in salary if they helped him secure a $1 million loan for a construction project in the Virgin Islands. Sportswriter Dick Young speculated: "It's a very simple gimmick. First you get the Yankees to lend you $1 million for an investment. You bank it at seven percent. That brings in $70,000 a year. Then you negotiate your contract with the independent feeling that you don't have to play baseball for a living." Clarke and the Yankees eventually agreed on a more conventional contract at $32,000 -- and no loan.
  
• Check out Horace Clarke's leadoff single on Opening Day in 1970, called by Phil Rizzuto! #23 playing first base for the Yankees is not Don Mattingly, but previously forgotten Yankee John Ellis.
  
• Clarke set the major league career record -- since tied by Joe Mauer -- of most no-hitters broken up in the 9th inning. Both players did it three times in their career... but Clarke did it three times in the same season! He had 9th inning singles to break up no-no's by Kansas City's Jim Rooker on June 4, 1970, Boston's Sonny Siebert on June 19, 1970, and Detroit's Joe Niekro on July 2, 1970. No other hitter has broken up more than two no-hitters in the 9th inning in his career, according to the book Baseball's No-Hit Wonders by Dirk Lammers, but Clarke amazingly did it three times in 24 games spread over 28 days. Mauer's 9th inning heartbreakers came over a six-year stretch.
  
• Clarke went 5-for-6 with an RBI in the second game of a doubleheader on April 19, 1970 -- and had 11 other games where he had four hits. In terms of fantasy scoring, his best day was either May 21, 1969, when he went 4-for-6 with three runs scored and three stolen bases, or July 22, 1971, when he was 4-for-5 with three runs scored and three RBIs.
  
• Clarke was involved in one of the most surreal moments of baseball history on the final day of the 1971 season. The Yankees were playing the Washington Senators -- not the original Senators, who had moved to Minnesota to become the Twins in 1961, but the expansion team founded that same year to replace them. Rangers owner Bob Short, who had bought the team three years earlier, announced he was moving the team to Arlington, Texas, to become the Rangers. (Coincidentally, in 1957, Short had bought the Minneapolis Lakers and, three years later, moved them to Los Angeles.) The final home game of the Senators at RFK Stadium in Washington, D.C., was on September 30, 1971 against the Yankees. The game was tied, 5-5, but the soon-to-be Rangers scored a pair in the bottom of the 8th to take a 7-5 lead. In the top of the 9th, Felipe Alou and Bobby Murcer grounded out to bring up Horace Clarke. Before he could get to the plate, however, a fan ran onto the field and pulled up first base, prompting hundreds more fans to run onto the field in search of their own souvenirs. Clarke and the Senators ran off the field and the umpires called it a forfeit in favor of the Yankees.
  
• Horace wore #20 all 10 seasons he was with the Yankees. It was never a particularly popular number before him, as the only player who wore it more than a few seasons was Tiny Bonham (1940-1946). Bucky Dent wore #20 from 1977 to 1982, and previously forgotten Yankee Bobby Meacham from 1983 to 1988. Another previously forgotten Yankee, Mike Stanley, wore it from 1992 to 1995, then Jorge Posada had it until Stanley returned in 1997 and reclaimed it. After Stanley left the Yankees, he asked Posada to take it back, saying that number should belong to a catcher. And now it always will, as it was retired for Posada in 2015.
  
• His obituary in The New York Times noted that among major leaguers from the Virgin Islands -- "a relatively small roster" -- Clarke still holds the records for games played, hits, runs, RBIs, and stolen bases.
  
• After he retired, Clarke helped promote youth baseball in the U.S. Virgin Islands. One of the players he mentored was Jerry Browne, who played 10 years in the majors between 1986 and 1995 with the Rangers, Indians, A's, and Marlins. In his SABR biography, Browne credits Clarke with teaching him baseball fundamentals.
  
• According to the book Where Have All Our Yankees Gone? by Brian Jensen, Clarke played a uniquely Caribbean instrument called "the vibes." "The vibes is like a xylophone, marimba-related type sound. It's a keyboard-type related instrument." Clarke said he played the instrument during his Yankee days, but -- unlike Bernie Williams, who frequently strummed on his guitar in the clubhouse -- only during the off-season. "When I was with the Yankees, ya know, the instrument that I had, the vibes, I was doing it, ya know, but never in the clubhouse, though. Once you are in the clubhouse, it is all work, ya know. That was never so much allowed. I had the instrument all the years that I was a Yankee but I was involved with baseball. That was my full time and I didn't have full time to play music but, ya know, in the off-season I would have a vibe and try to learn a song by hearing from a tape or a record and that's what it was." After retiring, Clarke played the instrument with a local band called Out of Nowhere.
  
• Of the 15 major leaguers to have been born in the U.S. Virgin Islands, the only other Yankee was Elrod Hendricks, a backup catcher for the Bombers from 1976 to 1977. Jabari Blash, born in St. Thomas, gets an honorable mention for the three months he spent as a Yankee during the 2017-2018 off-season. Blash was acquired from the Padres for Chase Headley on December 12, then traded to the Angels for a PTBNL or cash considerations. I guess we got the cash, because apparently no player was ever named.
  
• There's a Horace Clarke High School in Jamaica, but it's not named after the Yankee. It's named after the Horace Clarke who was a member of parliament in Jamaica from 1972 to 2002.
  
• Also not him: Horace Clarke, a teenager shot and seriously wounded by a Blackfeet Indian named Owl Child on August 17, 1869. Clarke's father, Malcolm, was killed in the same attack, which was purportedly revenge for Malcolm Clarke having attacked him two years earlier... which Malcolm claimed he'd done because Owl Child had stolen horses from him... which Owl Child said he'd done in revenge for yet an earlier dispute. The pursuit of Owl Child resulted in a massacre of at least 170 people, mostly elderly men, women, and children. As for Owl Child, he escaped to Canada and was never seen again.
  

"I remember the first game I played in Yankee Stadium in 1965. There were more than 40,000 people in the stands. I had just come from my country where there are 30,000 people in the entire country. That was some adjustment." -- Horace Clarke

Overall, Horace Clarke hit .257/.309/.315 in 5,144 plate appearances as a Yankee. His numbers aren't quite as bad as they appear, as he played during one of the lowest offense eras since deadball... an 84 OPS+. That ranks him ahead of fondly-remembered Yankees like Shelley Duncan (81 OPS+), Rick Cerone (80 OPS+), Miguel Cairo (80 OPS+), Bucky Dent (72 OPS+), and... Bobby Richardson (77 OPS+). And while many complained about his defense, his defensive metrics -- such as we have for his era -- indicate he was at least an average defender. He led the league in range factor three times, in fielding percentage once, in assists six times, and in double plays twice.
People tend to think about Clarke -- if they think about him at all -- as either a terrible player, representative of the teams he played on, or a good player who was wasted on bad teams. The truth is somewhere in the middle. As sportswriter Maury Allen said, he was "an average big-leaguer on below-average Yankee teams."
And in fact, Clarke's 16.0 career bWAR as a Yankee is twice as much value as the player he replaced, Bobby Richardson (8.0 bWAR). But Richardson was a fan favorite, while Clarke was scorned. But of course... Richardson won three rings. And Yankee fans love a winner!

"New York is New York. You don’t win, you’re going to hear about it. I was in the middle." -- Horace Clarke

Had Clarke come along a few years earlier and been part of the early 1960s dynasty, he might be remembered fondly as a scrappy infielder, a Tony Kubek or a Bucky Dent or a Scott Brosius -- a good but not great player who had some memorable moments.
Instead, Horace Clarke defines an era of futility.

JohnnyLuLus · Yesterday 23:26
I need to preface this with this is not about transwomen. This is about parents.
I was swimming with my children today at a leisure club. The gym overlooks the pool.and my teens noticed a boy who looked about their age (13) in the gym. They asked if they could use the gym, but the rules are no under-16s. I explained that the boy was probably older than he looked. All fine. (I was somewhat disgusted by the fact he took off his top to run on the treadmill, but I recognise that's probably my issue).
Anyway, after our.swim my teen boys went off to get changed in the men's changing room, whilst my 11 year old daughter and I went into the ladies.
It's an open-plan changing room - no private space and who should walk in, but the teenage boy and his mother. She kind of ushered him nto the corner and he sat on a bench. I got my daughter to cover up and hurried her along, but she's 11 and autistic so some executive functioning issues, so inevitably was exposed - I stood between her and the boy's line of sight. As I was trying to get her to finish up, the mother came over and said , "is it okay if my little boy walks through". I said "no not really is it, and he shouldn't be in here, he's no little either". She then said in a defensive voice "Well he's autistic, what am I supposed to do?" and then hurried him.out to the pool.
2/3 of my children are autistic, I get it's hard. But that shouldn't mean a teenage boy is in the open-plan women's changing area. The local leisure centres have family changing.
Being the weekend, the only staff on reception were young weekend staff, but I've left a message for the manager to get back to me tomorrow.
Aibu unreasonable for leaving a message saying we will revoke our membership if they don't make it very clear what their rules are around age limits to the opposite sex changing room?
KeinLiebeslied54321 · Yesterday 23:29
YANBU for flagging this up but do at least give them a chance to sort it out.
QuoteThanksAdd postShareReportBookmarkanonai · Yesterday 23:29
YABU. I get it was an uncomfortable situation but autism means different things for different people. Perhaps this young person isn't capable of getting changed independently and so needed his mum's support (I know my autistic boy will likely need my support when he's a teen). You might have a point about the leisure centre providing family changing facilities, but focusing on ages and sexes is not the way to go.
Parent taking teenage boy into women's changing room Mumsnet

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him.
Wren’s body was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred skin.
I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes.
Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself.
I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake.
But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls. There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania.
I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside. In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. Charlie, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

I'm trying to get quotes for a concrete slab. The slab is for a shed I'm DIYing. It's 12x16x4 and I'll be doing the prep work (digging, gravel, stamping, build the forms). I'm a very handy man and have done concrete work in the past when I was a teenager with my grandfather.
The shed is located in the corner of my yard about 60 feet away from the driveway, so if I get a truck of concrete, it will need either pumped or wheel borrowed.
I was expecting around 1.5k for quotes, since I'm doing all of the prep work. but the 3 quotes I got are all 3.5k. All three. Did that seem really high to anyone else? Are my expectations off?
At that price I might just rent a pre mixed trailer and do it myself.
I'm not a pro, but it's a shed, and it won't need to be perfect.
Any advice would be much appreciated.

Edit: o7
Responding via edits is silly. Standard hyperbolic response, as I mentioned below. But I gotta address two things just so y'all aware that I can offer a rebuttal if need be. 4THOT says:

Here's the full interview with the UN Rapporteur on Violence against Women claiming she isn't aware of the rocket attacks - https://www.linkedin.com/posts/bar-shemur-8b1bb23b_the-un-rapporteur-on-violence-against-women-activity-7171212859895459841-gq6B

I don't know why he's attempting to "find" the "full interview". The linkedin video he has given here is literally the exact same video I gave in my comment. Click the hyperlink saying "the lengthier clip." They're both posted by the interviewer, Bar Shem-Ur. Mate, did you even read my original comment? If you scroll down this page (part 3), you can see I say "the segment that aired on Hazinor, Channel 13 is exactly the same." I searched for where the footage originally aired and found no additional material. 4THOT, mate, the "clip-chimp" is this 30s clip the Jerusalem Post originally posted. When I say "lengthier" clip, I am talking about the 5min segment that you had to "find" despite the fact that I already found it.

nvm this dipshit didn't find the actual interview, this is a cut from twitter

Once again, the video from Twitter I provided is the exact same video as the linkedin one. There is no entire, unedited full interview anywhere without the tiktok rapid cuts. There might be more footage out there, who knows, I've literally never claimed to have found the "full" interview. I called it a clip compilation because I don't know if more footage exits. Another baffling response. Anyways, I'll leave the rest, this is not the way to have a back-and-forth. Toodles! XD
Edit 2: Just to clarify what I was attempting to do in my comment, 4THOT still has not directly answered this question from part 3, the main post:

Do you think Alsalem holds the position that Hamas or Hezbollah have never fired rockets against Israel?

I honestly don't remember the last time I saw someone claim that Hamas has never fired rockets against Israel; this would be an astronomically fringe position. If you read the headline of the JP alone, and maybe even the article, you can still come away with the conclusion that Alsalem believes that Hamas has never fired rockets against Israel. I gave evidence of the fact that some people came away with this conclusion in the redacted comment:

Because if they've lived their entire lives unaware of the rocket attacks,

I don't believe that to be true; Alsalem has not lived her entire life unaware of the rocket attacks. We need more evidence to establish that then this interview.
Notice how I have actually quoted 4THOT verbatim down below? But for some reason, I need to provide a "direct link" to it, even though you can see it if you just scroll down the page? Baffling, like I said. "Isn't that interesting?" You're quoted verbatim mate! What do you think is "interesting" here?
4THOT you are killing me:

Here's the actual thread where you were banned.

You do realize that I've linked the thread I was banned twice? A third time as well if you want to include the moment where I linked someone else's comment in that thread. Unbelievable.
I never said the headline is "incorrect" these are the actual words I used in my direct appeal:

If the headline is poor, I might present information in the comments in order to ensure that the criticism is well-directed.

I believe that the headline could lead to a misinterpretation. I was later proven to be correct. I provided evidence of that misinterpretation in the direct appeal. And 4THOT refuses to engage with any of it. Again, these edits reply are so silly. I have no idea why he's so reluctant to have an actual exchange, but judging by how he's already responded, I get it mate. Finito once more. I gotta go get some cheese balls...

The Short Version can be found here.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

The Beekeeper. Bzzt:

Ah, I'm so fucked. 💀

Challenges...

This part is going to be an interesting challenge. I would say I’m walking a tightrope here, but that metaphor implies that there’s some slim chance where one can write a section like this and not get banned, um, again (and again?). The original plan was something a bit more comprehensive, where alongside another matter, I would make the case that there have been a number of pro-Palestine users that have correctly addressed misinformation on this sub, where they do a decent job of breaking circlejerks, adding some sordid nuance to threads that otherwise would have devolved into the ones laid out in Part 1 and Part 2. These users will, inevitably, have an “interaction” with 4THOT at some point; they will subsequently be banned on justifications that I obviously believe are nonsensical, where said justifications are also exhibited by 4THOT, whether in that exchange itself or in other threads; and these users are not interested in returning to the sub.
I abandoned this plan for a long litany of reasons; there’s two in particular I’ll highlight here: (1) I don't believe I can achieve the effects I desire; and (2) I'm keen to avoid any accusations of this section being some “hit-piece” or “hate-post.”
I do not intend to present arguments against any other aspect of moderation that I might find to be problematic; I do not intend to make comments on character. I am simply razor-focused on one aspect of moderation here, and one aspect of the unbanning process.

...and Goals

This part will attempt to try and have my other goal — which is shared by many other users in this sub — come into fruition: I believe users should be able to participate in this sub without needing to take into consideration what 4THOT’s personal views are on a matter.
The only things a user should be cognizant of is what are Reddit's site wide rules, including those specific to this sub; what are the subreddit rules; and what are Destiny's desires in terms of what comments and submissions are allowed here. I also believe subreddit rule 6 (rule 5 on new reddit) needs to be amended to remove the arbitrariness.
If a user comes away with a different interpretation of events than 4THOT does, and said user doesn't exhibit any other behaviour in their comment or submission that violates those stated parameters, then that user ought not to be banned.
If 4THOT’s personal opinion is something that we need to be mindful of — and Destiny approves of this notion, agreeing that opinions 4THOT alone finds to be beyond the pale warrants an immediate ban — then, unironically, that stipulation should be added to the subreddit rules.
Furthermore, as mentioned in the TL;DR, I am requesting clarification on if there’s any procedure by which you can get unbanned when 4THOT sets a condition on the unban — and whether or not he should be setting conditions on the ban. 4THOT has mentioned that "Ninou has orders to not unban certain [regards.]"
As it stands, it’s not clear if Destiny approves of this behaviour. I say this because I have not seen him comment on this aspect of moderation when it comes to the subreddit. If he already disapproves of this behaviour, then I would request that this sentiment be conveyed to 4THOT, which should hopefully reduce the likelihood this reoccurs in the future.
I'm asking that Destiny clarify here because then it's something that can be clipped, and moderators here can use that clip when, well, moderating.
One final point before I critique the bans. There’s a noticeable difference between this section on 4THOT, and his um, passionate challenge to Kelly Jean: she’s easy to avoid. Just close the stream mate! Whereas 4THOT has control over who can participate in this subreddit, Kelly Jean can't dictate who can and can't appear on stream. Mashallah. 🙏 Thus, I feel this submission has justification.

The Bullet: A Forlorn Attempt for Consistency

The second ban is infinitely more interesting, but I’ll briefly address the first 30-day ban. I am not here to relitigate this discourse. The post in question that led to the infraction was removed, but it's still available if you’re a moderator, and I won't be reposting it here. The gist of the post was a question on whether or not we should be banning people for misinformation, referencing a user who received a 90-day ban from 4THOT for posting a misquote from a mainstream Israeli news outlet, during a live translation of a speech Netanyahu was giving. I’m pretty sure 4THOT knows who i24News are, so I couldn't quite follow his thought process here.
Moreover, if you’ve gone through the examples above, then you can easily imagine my bafflement here as well, particularly because a couple days earlier a Twitter clip was posted of an individual clearly misspeaking.
The user who submitted this post was only banned for 10 days — despite doubling down on this not being a misspeak — and I was bemused by the inconsistency being applied here. Being completely consistent in terms of my own principles, I mentioned in my post that I don’t think either of them should be banned, but if this is the standard that is going to be maintained, then it would only be reasonable that some level of leniency is given if you happen to inadvertently post misinformation from a reputable news outlet.
Regarding the Netanyahu misquote, I am in full agreement with 4THOT that it is a misquote, but it is regrettable that, well, some chose to challenge him on this front, arguing that the corrected quote is functionally the same, or worse. Take note of how civil his interlocutor here is up until the point 4THOT used an insult; unwisely, his interlocutor chose to match tone. I’m only mentioning this because, despite the insults 4THOT might use against me, I have no interest in engaging in a similar style of rhetoric as I don't find it to be conducive to a productive conversation, and I’m hoping I don't have to deal with a level of vitriol here that users are sometimes not allowed to match — not that I have any interest in doing so. There’s a couple tame jokes in this post, but hopefully I don’t get a response like this:

Thank fucking God that guy died because he'd absolutely kill himself by biting off his own tongue to choke on his own blood if he ever read the obese shithead redditors backseating one of the most extreme acts of political protest any human being can ever do.
HE INTENDED TO DIE NIGHTMARISHLY YOU IDIOT THAT WAS THE POINT

Frisco, you got cooked mate 😭.

A Guardian Angel?

Now, after I was banned, another user made a post about the ban upon myself, which generated a fair amount of interest, you fucking drama frogs. Here, I simply wish to make four remarks:

• I'm sure you can see how different in tone, rhetoric, and substance OP’s post is compared to my original post (for those of you that remember reading it), and compared to this post. There are a number of insults that are frequently used against 4THOT which I don’t use as I’m looking for good-faith engagement from him. That being said, I appreciate the fact that OP wasn’t looking for a meaningful, productive exchange with 4THOT here, and thus they didn’t feel the need to temper their rhetoric.
• In the pinned comment, 4THOT uses a fair amount of hyperbole. The original post was very benign, and didn’t come anywhere close to conveying a sentiment that “this Reddit is ruined” or “4THOT is literally the IDF.” I don’t see how you can come away with this reading considering how mild the post was.
• Once more, I am not here to relitigate this, but I would have loved to address some of the criticism levelled against myself in the comments under OP’s post; I certainly wasn’t going to re-open those conversations a month later. That being said, I appreciate users like Wannabe_Sadboi for making the arguments that I, more or less, would have made had I had the opportunity to immediately respond. Just to quote one of their comments: “People shouldn’t be banned for being partisan, they should be banned only for breaking rules, and Splemndid didn’t break any rules.” But, apparently, there are rules being broken here, and it is not clear what these rules are, and whether or not Destiny approves of them.
• If the original post was problematic because it was too indirect, then hopefully this post which is significantly more direct — but kept well under the threshold of something that could be constituted as a “hate-post” — should not be a problem.

Chilling Effect. Brrr 🥶

When I was hit with the 30 day ban, I sent a direct appeal hoping the length of the ban would at least be reduced, which didn't receive a response, and neither did sending an unban request via the unban request form. No biggie. At least with a temporary ban I know when to expect to be unbanned.
After the 30 day ban, I decided to give up doing two things: (1) making attempts to get other users unbanned when I felt the justifications were not cogent or fair; and (2) participating in I-P threads that 4THOT himself had already made comments within — in particular, those where he was actively arguing with other users on the subreddit. This is a bad chilling effect; even if I see a comment they have made where they’ve made a false claim, or I disagree with their analysis or moral claims, I’m choosing not to engage because I'd rather not go through yet another cycle of bans. I value shitposting in the subreddit more than having arguments with 4THOT.
Moreover, I’m also not interested in getting caught in the crossfire when, upon finishing his Reddit debate, he bans his interlocutor from the subreddit, and also those who have made similar comments to the one his interlocutor has espoused elsewhere in the thread. He does not always do this, and I would literally never make the claim that he just “ban everyone that disagrees with [him]”. I won’t call this hyperbole as I’m sure someone has levelled this incorrect accusation against him. 4THOT is capable — and has demonstrated on myriad occasions — of being able to have dispassionate disagreements. The issue is that I’m not interested in rolling the dice here with another ban.
Thus, I decided to avoid 4THOT entirely while participating in the sub as normal, making the usual shitposts. (Y’all are welcome for the template, btw. I went frame by frame, looking for the shot of Destiny at his most euphoric.) Alas, woe is me, I made a fatal error: I can’t avoid 4THOT if I choose to comment in a thread first. Browsing new, the bane of my existence, Hobbitfollower you dastardly devil.

The Nuke: A Muddled Statement and Different Interpretations

In the trenches of new, I came across a submission which posted this version of a Jerusalem Post article. If you've read The Six Points, then you can see what I'm attempting to do in my comment, that was apparently egregious enough to warrant banning me “until Israel/Palestine is over.” Before I go over this, I’m going to once again link the comment I made on this subreddit defending Israel from the accusation that they have been siding with ISIS for years.

Consistency

I apply the exact same methodology when dispelling conspiracy theories on Israel as I do for the UN official whose comments are the subject of the post. I’m digging up the relevant primary sources; I’m searching for archived versions of articles posted on inactive websites; I’m reading multiple articles from different Israeli outlets reporting on the same speech; and I’m reading the entire transcript of the nearly hour-long speech by the head of the Israeli Military Intelligence at the time, Herzi Halevi, just so I can make an informed comment here. At no point am I ever concerned that I could be banned for this comment. I can freely talk about anti-Israel propaganda, and I know no moderator is going to bat an eye at that.
I recently watched a Hasan video because dgg taught me the art of hate-watching, and now I hate-watch dgg while they hate-watch Hasan. Early on in the video, an article headline by the Intercept is shown: “Leaked Cables Show White House Opposes Palestinian Statehood.” Ken Klippenstein appears in the byline, which immediately sets off a red flag for me because I’ve found reporting by him in the past to be absolutely dreadful, including the time when he used to work for the Grayzone, where he gave Seymour Hersh a softball interview, and allowed him to spread risible conspiracy theories. The Intercept article shown in Hasan’s video doesn't provide the cables they are reporting on, but they are available on Ken’s substack. Without going on a tangent, unsurprisingly, the Intercept’s piece on these cables misrepresents them (IMO).
Similarly, when I had a discussion with a tankie on another subreddit on whether or not the 2010 Australian Labor Party leadership spill was “a US-backed coup”, I once again seeked out all the relevant and many Wikileaks cables, read them all, and made my own assessment.

Dolls

Enough examples! You get the idea! I have a consistent principle that I am applying here. Upon opening up the JP article OP submitted, I see Danielle Greyman-Kennard in the byline. This is a person who previously wrote an article claiming that a dead Palestinian baby was a doll (which is not the first or last time this has happened in general; Pallywood amirite?). When it was brought to her attention that this is a body going through rigor mortis, she doubled-down in a patronising tweet.
Eventually, someone at the JP realized the fuck-up, and the article was retracted. There are a number of journalists and writers for Israeli outlets that seek to publish or tweet out any information that casts pro-Palestine organisations or individuals in a bad light — and that’s fine. If you’re pro-Palestine, and you’re saying or doing some dumb shit, that’s on you, not the individual that wants to report on it. However, there are biases at play here, where one must be cognizant of how these biases can filter down into how information is presented.

Direct Appeal

The following is the direct appeal I sent when I was banned which will serve as a clarification on the comment:
What up, I initially disagreed with your assessment, but upon re-reading it, now I'm unsure what our disagreement is, and what you think I was trying to address in my comment. Hopefully, the following will serve as clarification.
When I opened up the submission, I read the headline, I read the article, I watched the clip contained within, and then I sought out any additional footage from the interview that was readily available. The safe assumption I make when it comes to article submissions on reddit is that folk are generally not going to read the article, and will likely only comment based on the headline. If the headline is poor, I might present information in the comments in order to ensure that the criticism is well-directed. The headline of the Jerusalem Post article is:

UN Special Rapporteur 'unaware' of rocket attacks on Israel

If you asked the average person what they thought this headline meant, they would think the UNSR thought there had been no rocket attacks launched against Israel ever or since the start of the war. As evidence that some came away with this conclusion, you can read [redacted link] here posted on [redacted subreddit] (emphasis mine):

This can't be real right? This is a fake article right? Or a satire piece? Because if they've lived their entire lives unaware of the rocket attacks, then they have no right having anything to do with the global politics or whatever it is the UN does. That's just insane.

In other words, this individual is in disbelief, and they're astonished that Reem Alsalem, the UNSR, is completely unaware of any rocket/missile attacks that have been fired against Israel ever. Here I hope we can acknowledge two things: (1) Alsalem does believe there have been missile attacks against Israel at various points in time; and (2) most pro-Hamas sycophants aren't going to deny these missile attacks have taken place -- they want these attacks to take place. Alternatively, they might seek to diminish the destructive capability of these attacks, or assert that it is Israel's fault these attacks are occurring. It's pretty rare to come across someone claiming they've never happened, period.
My comment was made to highlight that she was really caught up in the frequency of the attacks and how she was possibly misinterpreting the question. Reem Alsalem has a wide litany of dumb beliefs that you can criticize her on; in this case, I thought the criticism would be better directed for being unaware of the frequency of attacks. The JP itself does include a line that would have better served as a headline:

[UN Special Rapporteur] unaware of the frequent rocket attacks made by Hamas and Hezbollah against Israel.

As mentioned, I was trying to ensure that commenters didn't make comments like the one I linked. Re-reading my own comment, it could have been phrased better to make sure that those who read it understood my intentions.

Further comments

The rest of the direct appeal consisted of me clearing up any misconceptions that I might be pro-Hamas, providing various links of comments that demonstrate what my beliefs are. This my attempt to "pass the litmus test" as I don't believe I'm being engaged on the merits of my argument.
Once again, as I’ve hopefully established by now, we know there can be a widespread reluctance here to sometimes read past the headline and open the article, and even the article itself might not have sufficient context to truly parse what is being said. At the time, the only additional footage available from the interview was the five minute, heavily edited clip compilation available on the interviewer’s Twitter. It is just… irritating to watch. Partly because, as I said, I have to suffer through listening to Alsalem’s asinine beliefs, but also because it’s so chopped up that I can't quite tell what’s been cut out, what statements are directly following from which questions, and so on.
Other users also had interpretations of their own to give, taking note of the fact that there may be an edit after she says "but". I actually don’t think there was anything additional said, and it’s just awkwardly edited. However, unlike with Herzi Halevi’s speech, I and everyone else watching these clips are working with scraps here, and the segment that aired on Hazinor, Channel 13 is exactly the same. There is ambiguity here; an amorphous, nebulous, incoherent jumble of statements where one can make a range of interpretations — but one of those interpretations was not permissible on the subreddit. My own of course.
I’m still baffled as to what 4THOT’s contention here is. He comments:

!cleanse nvm you're an idiot. She says she has seen "attacks" but does not specify from where or whom or when. When he specifically asks if she's seen rocket attacks that have been reported from the north from Hezbollah and South from Hamas without "every single day" and is asked about rocket attacks from those areas says she hasn't seen it.

I presume the position he holds here is that Alsalem is being sly: when she says that she has seen attacks, she is actually referring to Israeli attacks, not Hamas or Hezbollah. For further clarity, I would have asked 4THOT:

• Do you think Alsalem holds the position that Hamas or Hezbollah have never fired rockets against Israel?
• If no, do you think Alsalem holds the position that Hamas or Hezbollah have never fired rockets against Israel since the initial barrage of rocket attacks on Oct. 7th?

In his first reply to my comment, he armed me and said I was his “strongest soldier.” 😳 Must have noticed these guns 💪😎. It seems like he originally agreed with me, and I don't know what impact, if any, this had on the ultimate decision.
I remember staring at this section of the unban request form thinking, "Err, I don't know." Like you all, when I've been banned by Destiny in the past, I know what to write here. He doesn't like snark; if you're being a condescending prick, get that ass banned. I have a general understanding of what sort of comments Destiny hates in this subreddit, and thus I know how to participate in the subreddit without being on the receiving end of a ban.
Taking the recommendation of another user, I cobbled together something for the unban form, and figured I'd just try again in a month. Alas, both the form and my last exchange with 4THOT was unsuccessful, and I would not have even attempted to send an unban request form to Ninou had I known that she had "orders to not unban" certain users. While I can understand that there may be certain users whose offenses are so egregious that a ban conditional on a lengthy period of time having been passed first is warranted, I don't believe I fall in this camp.
It's often stated by both Destiny and other moderators that the "process to get unbanned is pretty easy." Conditional bans tarnish the smoothness of this process, where good-faith unban requests are rejected due to the condition set, and I don't believe this should be the case.
If Destiny could offer further clarity here, that would be appreciated by both myself and others who have had this conditional ban placed upon them.

The Litmus Test:

Scroll up all the way to the top of Part 1, and what do you notice I've done in the preamble? I’m keen to avoid guilt by association; I believe Destiny just calls this being “webbed.” In the TL;DR I specifically mention the "pro-Israel crowd"; I know what this will invoke in the minds of people reading this, the associations people will draw to other people who have made criticism against the pro-Israel crowd. Thus, I feel the need to ensure that I dissociate myself from those people. That’s why you see the statement about Hasbara and brigading; it’s me raising a giant flag screeching, “Hey, I’m not like the others, this post is different!”
Let me give a couple examples here (suffer through some more examples…you must suffer…).

Example I - An Odd Title and an Audacious Inquiry

In this submission, OP posts a Twitter video with the submission title: “Reuters video shows militants armed with assault rifles atop aid convoy trucks and shooting at palstinians [sic] approaching the trucks.” Now, no one mentioned this in the comments, so to add some clarification here: this is not Reuters reporting, this is a clip from a Reuters live stream showing a view from a tent camp in Rafah. (Specific timestamp here.) Anyone watching this stream can clip whatever noteworthy event they see and add their own statements on what has transpired. As far as I can tell, that seems to be what the original clip here from N12 news has done, and it was also posted on their website, with no additional details.
This individual (henceforth called Doc) asked some fair questions. They made mistakes, of course, such as watching the clip on mute (you silly goose); but I would agree that “shooting at palstinians [sic]” invokes an image of, well, Palestinians being riddled with bullets, and instead we get what seems to be shots fired into the air. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that the title reflect this distinction. What’s unfortunate here is that merely attempting to get an accurate summary is enough for OP to assume the worst about them, and thus we get the rebuke: “Keep dicksucking the terrorists stealing the aid.” I’ve seen Doc’s comments before, when they say they’re an “Israel stan”, they are. But for OP, they immediately engaged in “the web”, guilt by association, etc., and that was enough to result in this petty infighting. I thought leftists were the only ones that did that?

Example II - No Steelmans Allowed

In the second example, it’s me that’s on the receiving end of the purity test. Personally, as someone who is not a leftist (see what I’ve done there?), I do think a considerable number of y’all miss the mark when it comes to criticising leftists, and I attempt to steelman their positions as I find that to be more conducive for better discourse. Feel free to disagree with the steelman, the point is that merely providing that steelman is enough for OP to assume that these are my own positions — despite clearly stating multiple times that I’m not pro-Palestine, that I support Operation Prosperity Guardian, etc. Once again I bring up that I have defended Israel from silly conspiracy theories when they mentioned “your tribe”, as that’s my attempt to pass the litmus test, demonstrating my impartiality here.

Example III - ???

I'm not sure if 4THOT engaged in a similar type of purity testing both for the initial comment I was banned for, and also in my last exchange with them on another subreddit. The exchange was pretty bizarre: I asked if they checked Reddit DMs; they replied that they do, and “our agreement stands.” In their next reply, they mentioned that they confused me with another person, and said that, “Yes, once I/P is over I will let your people go.” That phrase “your people”, is quite similar to how the OP in the previous example said “your tribe” and “your side.” This seems to be the guilt by association I spoke on: I’m being lumped in with a group whose views generally don’t align with my own. That’s why part 1 begins with an introduction on myself. I need to pass the litmus test first before I can get good engagement — and it’s unfortunate that I feel compelled to do that.

Engage in good-faith

The conclusion here is a simple one: don't assume what positions your interlocutor holds merely because they're skeptical about that framing of certain stories, or because they attempt to provide a steelman for the opposing side.

Finito for Real

What I’m looking for here is clarity. UN officials will continue to say and do stupid things; that applies to pro-Palestine people, that applies to leftists. But every now and then, upon seeing one of these submissions, I might think, “Eh, this is pretty stupid, but I think it’s stupid for slightly different reasons to everyone else.” Can I express those opinions here? Must I add a preamble to every comment so that people don’t assume the worst? Do I need to be thinking, “Hmm, I wonder what 4THOT thinks about this story?”

Free me OOOO 🐟

Thanks to everyone that offered feedback. :)

When Harry meets Tom in the Chamber of Secrets and Tom begins to list the things that they curiously have in common and are the reason why he was so curious about Harry, one of the things he mentions is that even their physical appearances are similar. and we know that Tom Riddle was basically a supermodel in his teenage years and therefore I came to think that Harry and James must be quite handsome but then I started to think that this comparison is between a 16 year old boy and a 13 year old boy and I don't know how much did facial structures and that sort of thing change in those 3 years to justify taking Tom's words seriously
Another thing is that Harry never talks much about his physical appearance in a flattering way, although I don't know if it's because there is nothing to praise or because Harry is very humble/insecure and doesn't notice his good physical appearance.
Harry also receives a lot of attention from girls especially in his fourth and sixth year but there we have the problem that he is Harry Potter The Boy Who Lived, the champion of the 3 wizard tournament and the chosen one, so it would be impossible to know how many these girls would be attracted to him if it weren't for those things, like knowing if his physical appearance would be enough to justify having a whole row of girls behind him
What do you believe? Are they handsome or not? Is there any other description or quote from another character regarding this topic that I'm forgetting?

one of my first fav quotes by Diane, S1EP3: Bojack asks Diane what she thinks of Sarah Lynn.
“Oh, I don’t really think about her all that much. I mean, obviously I’m a fan of her early work which both satirized and celebrated youth culture’s obsession with sex, but I do wonder as a third wave feminist if its even possible for women to reclaim their sexuality in this deeply entrenched patriarchal society, or if claiming to do so is just a lie we tell ourselves so we can more comfortably cater to the male gaze. But you know, on the other hand, I worry that conversations like this one often dismiss her as a mere puppet of the industry, incapable of engaging in these discussions herself and infantilization, which is itself a product of the deeply misogynistic society we live in, but like I said, I don’t really think about her all that much.”

Disclaimer:

Despite how the title and intro may look, I am not here to dunk on feminism. If you came looking for a post that said, "Feminist Soy! Am i rite?" Sorry, got to disappoint. Conversely, this isn't a sermon about why you should convert. Believe whatever you want to believe bro. Also, Not a Christian, but I do like Wendigoon talking about it. Finally, Mods plz don't nuke my post this isn't about religion but about the mythology around the figure.

Why Post This Here:

Lilith has been involved in literary discourse for a while as well as being seen as a Feminist Icon in literature. This post is meant to debunk these claims and misreading of the Abrahamic Myths.

Intro:

This really isn't a specific work of fiction, but rather, a general fictional trope I guess., Ever since the release of Hazbin Hotel, discussion has increased on Lilith being a sympathetic/feminist icon, and this is the most laughable idea to me as a guy who is currently studying Christian Mythology for a project. Today, I am going to debunk this claim of Lilith being sympathetic or any sort of feminist girlboss or even being anyway relevant to the Abrahamic Mythos. I'll try source all my arguments, so it doesn't look like I am talk out of my ass.

In The Bible:

Ah, the Bible. It is amazing how such a small book can cause so much violence, but we are not here for a religious debate (well not really). We are here to discuss Lilith. For context, I am going to be used the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) & English Standard Version (ESV). This is because NSRV and ESV and considered the most popular when it comes to the Bible Versions.
Let's start with NRSV, and Lilith shows up...once? Hell, she doesn't even show up. She's just mentioned.

Isaiah 34:14: "Wildcats shall meet with hyenas, goat-demons shall call to each other; there too Lilith shall repose,"

You can read the full chapter here, but the full chapter really doesn't change much. From what I could gleam (admittedly I ain't a theologian so I could be missing stuff), the dude in this chapter is talking about God's Judgment and is more focused on the natural disasters that would happen. Lilith isn't even really that important. She seems to be at best a higher demon with some power, but this same chapter says an undead apocalypse will happen. She is a footnote at best.
Okay what about ESV? It is even worse there. She doesn't even show up.

Isaiah 34:14: "And wild animals shall meet with hyenas; the wild goat shall cry to his fellow; indeed, there the night bird settles and finds for herself a resting place" (Source)

Okay, but I am clearly cherry-picking though right? What about the other versions? Well, it get even more nebulous. In certain version, it isn't even Lilith but an unnamed night-demon (Source). In others, it isn't even a demon but just a creature of the night/ animals of the night (Source). Hell one of them there are no demons instead an unnamed ogress (Source).
You'd think that Lilith, being the first woman and rebelling against Big G himself, should get more than one very sketchy mention. I mean Eve the mother of humanity is mentioned between 2,000 -2,500 times (Source), Mary the mother of Jesus Motherfucking Christ himself gets around 40 times (Source), hell Queen Sheba, whose existence I only know because a sword in KCD is name after her, is mentioned nearly 70 times (Source)(obviously this varies on which version you take as some books are just removed but the point stands). You mean to tell me a fucking side character is mentioned more than literally Female Satan. Funnily enough, Satan is only mention like 30 times in the Bible (Source).
Okay, so already the foundations of Lilith are shaky, but what do the other Abrahamic Religions say?

In The Quran/The Tanakh (IMPORTANT):

The Quran. She never shows up. Weird since both Eve and Mary get mentioned.
Okay, but what about The Tanakh? (For those who don't know the Tanakh is the "Hebrew Bible". A lot of people say that's the Torah, but the Torah is just the compilation of the first five books of the Tanakh.) Well, yes.

Otzar Midrashim, The Aleph Bet of ben Sira, The Alphabet of ben Sira, (alternative version) 34 - He said to him, "The angels appointed for healing: Sanoy, Sansanoy, Semangalof. When the Holy Blessed One created the first Adam alone, They said, (Genesis 2:18) 'It is not good for this Adam to be alone.' They created for him a wife out of the Earth like he had been, and called her Lilith. Immediately they began to challenge each other. She said, 'I will not lie below,' and he said, 'I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be the superior one…

So case closed - STOP. I ain't done cooking yet. See, I got to apologize a bit to you reader. I kind of lied, but to understand how I lied. You got to understand the Jewish Faith first, specifically their holy texts.
Okay, all Holy Jewish Texts fall under Sifrei Kodesh (aka Holy Books). . Within the Siferi Kodesh, there are two main categories texts fall into Tankah and Rabbinic. The Tankah is The Hebrew Bible. It is the considered the canonical collection of Hebrew scriptures and is comprisied of the Torah, the Nevi'im, and the Ketuvim. (Source and Source). Meanwhile, the Rabbinic is Jewish Rabbis studying and interpreting the Tankah (Source, Source, Source). The Alphabet of Ben Sira is squarely in the Rabbinic.
Most of you have already seen a problem, but for those of who didn't, let me spell it out. When you are quoting this passage, you are not quoting from the Tankah. You are quoting a Rabbi's interpretation of the Tankah. This would be equivalent to me using My Immortal to critique Harry Potter (No offense to any Jewish Rabbis. This comparison is meant to be extreme).
Ah, but ain't done yet reader, I have saved the biggest bombshell for last.
The Alphabet of Ben Sira is a shitpost. It a satire. It isn't real.
The reasoning is several. This reddit comment sums it up. And This. Also This
From The Jewish Virtual Library:

There is no reason to doubt the unity of the work as a whole, despite the fragmentary character of the different versions. All the versions share a special, satirical, and even heretical, character, and this indicates that they all were written by a single hand. They seem to reflect varying degrees of censorship on the part of editors and copyists. The complete work contains four parts. The first part is the biography of Ben Sira from his conception until the age of one year. This story, omitted in many editions, explains how Jeremiah, the prophet, was simultaneously Ben Sira's father (the numerical value of Ben Sira's name equals that of Jeremiah), and grandfather. Ben Sira's mother was Jeremiah's daughter. The old prophet was forced to an act of onanism by wicked men, and his daughter conceived from his emissions when she came to bathe. The form of this story is based on a biblical verse that tells the glories and wonders of God's deeds; thus the story satirizes not only Jeremiah, but God's deeds as well.
The second part is more sophisticated in form. It tells how Ben Sira, now one year old, meets with his teacher, who tries to teach him the alphabet. Instead of repeating each letter of the alphabet after his teacher, Ben Sira responds with an epigram beginning with that letter. The epigrams lead the teacher to tell the story of his life. It may be assumed that the original structure of this part was 22 + 12 paragraphs, each containing a letter, an epigram, and a part of the story.
The third part is the longest and contains most of the narrative material in this work. It recounts the story of Ben Sira's life and adventures in the court of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylonia. It also includes stories told by Ben Sira himself as answers to the king's questions. These stories often include pornographic elements, as well as derogatory descriptions of biblical figures, like King Solomon or Joshua. Some of the stories in this section contain motifs from international folklore and may be based on folktales, but they were adapted to the special framework of the work and satirical elements were added to them. Examination of the various versions indicates that here, too, there were 22 stories, arranged according to the letters of the alphabet, to which 12 other stories were added.
The fourth part, which is found in most versions and gave the work its name, contains 22 alphabetically arranged epigrams attributed to Ben Sira that serve as material for discussion and interpretation by Ben Sira's son, Uzziel, and his grandson, Joseph b. Uzziel. The contents are satirical and even heretical. It may be assumed that this part was constructed in the same manner as the two previous ones – 22 + 12 sections. The work, therefore, displays elements of unity both in structure and in its ideological aims. It is all but impossible, however, to discover the background upon which such a work could have been written. Some scholars (L. Ginzberg and others) believe that it aimed at ridiculing the story of Jesus' birth; but the basis for such a conclusion may be found only in the first part, and even this is not very clear, for the irony seems to be directed more against God than against Jesus. It is hardly possible that the author was a Karaite, as some of the abusive stories are directed against biblical figures, and not only against the Talmud and Midrash. It seems likely that the author did not belong to any organized group or definable ideological movement, but was merely a writer with an anarchistic tendency who used satire to ridicule all the institutions of established religion in his day.
Another difficult problem is the relationship between this pseudepigraphal work and the original proverbs of Ben Sira. Some of the proverbs and epigrams included in the work are originally in the work of Ben Sira, but many such proverbs are found in talmudic literature, and the author probably took them from there. The author of the pseudepigraphal work did not even know Ben Sira's first name. There is only one slight connection that might be accidental: the Wisdom of *Ben Sira has a preface written by the author's grandson, who edited the work, and in the pseudepigraphal work the figure of a grandson is also present.

Buh buh But thats just a reddit comment and some random websites. Whu Whu What are you gonna do OP? Analyze the entire text to prove its a shitpost.
Yes.
Mods turn the music on.

Analysis Of Alphabet of Sirach/The Alphabet Of Ben Sira:

The text we will be using.
We are going to skip most of it and just jump straight into the section with Lilith, but if you do chose to read it, have a good time. Shit is funny as hell. Let's start of with Lillith's Birth. Many like to potray Adam and Lilith's first interaction like this.
1, 2, 3
It is often either stated or implied Adam either tried to force Lilith into a s*x position she didn't want or that he he stated that she was inferior to him and she spit back. While this nicely fits into the "yas Queen SLAYYY" interpretation, its not the truth...mostly.
Here is the actual text:

When the Holy Blessed One created the first Adam alone, They said, (Genesis 2:18) 'It is not good for this Adam to be alone.' They created for him a wife out of the Earth like he had been, and called her Lilith. Immediately they began to challenge each other. She said, 'I will not lie below,' and he said, 'I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be the superior one.' Lilith responded, 'We are equal to each other inasmuch as we were both created from the Earth.' But they would not listen to one another. When Lilith saw this, she pronounced the Ineffable Name and flew away into the world's air.

So first, no she wasn't going to be sexually assaulted. Secondly, it was just a couple arguing with each other. Yes, Adam shouldn't have said that about Lilith, but we shouldn't take a statement said by an angry man as gospel for the religion. Plus, how on earth is blaspheming your Father and then running away from an argument an appropriate reaction to the situation? God didn't do anything wrong. Why you picking a fight with him? We will discuss this more, but lets continue.

The Holy Blessed One said to Adam, 'If she agrees to come back, good. If not, she must permit one hundred of her children to die every day.' They departed and pursued her, and overtook her in the midst of the sea, in the mighty waters wherein the Egyptians would ultimately drown. They told her God's word, but she did not wish to return. The angels said, 'We shall drown you in the sea.' She said to them, 'Let me be. I was created only to cause illness to infants. I have dominion over them for eight days after birth if they are male, and if female, after birth for twenty days.' When the angels heard Lilith's words, they insisted on taking her. But she swore to them by the name of the living and eternal God, 'Whenever I see you or your names or your forms in an amulet, I will have no power over that infant.' She also agreed to have one hundred of her children die every day.

There is much to go over here. First, WHERE ARE THE HUNDRED CHILDREN COMING FROM! These are the first man and woman. THERE ARE NO CHILDREN. Who is he talking about? And don't give me that bullshit that he mad a mistake. HE IS GOD. IN THE TORAH, HE IS OMNISCIENT. This makes no sense.
"I was created only to cause illness to infants. I have dominion over them for eight days after birth if they are male, and if female, after birth for twenty days." I am sorry fucking what? Who said that? God? No. Adam? No. The Angels? Definitely not. No one told Lilith she had to cause illness. She is just being a toxic bitch and offloading her problems. What the fuck?
Finally, "She also agreed to have one hundred of her children die every day." At this point, who has sympathy for Lilith? Lets objectively look at Adam's sin. Yes, he was sexist. Yes, that was wrong. Can't Lilith convince him to change? We know it is possible for a woman to convince Adam because EVE CONVINCED HIM TO EAT THE APPLE. So, clearly the man can develop his thoughts. Instead, Lilith just runs away from her problem, knowing that a hundred innocent children (HER CHILDREN BY THE WAY- hang on does that mean she fucked Adam and Eve's Sons. Isn't she like their aunt? I am pretty sure that's still incest) will die. Yes, God is partly to blame as well, but if I had to choose between a Misandrist Wife or dead innocents, I will go with the Misandrist Wife. Nothing shows Adam as violent just a dick, and she clearly has access to powers he doesn't cuz he can't fly.

Accordingly, every day one hundred demons perish, and for the same reason, we write their names on the amulets of young children, and she sees them, she remembers her oath, and the child is healed

I guess that's nice? But does she even really heal them? She just takes away an illness she caused. This is like saying I put out the fire, but I am the arsonist who started it. There wouldn't be a problem if I didn't create one. And that's how the story ends. Seriously.
There is more, but it doesn't really matter. Ben Sira cures a girl of farting everywhere, talks about hair follicles, slanders David, explains why Donkey Urine is important, and ends with a raven cucking an eagle. Its pretty funny.

In Conclusion:

So, TL;DR: Lilith's entire existence is based on a shitpost. In said shitpost, she isn't even that great of a person and isn't even a feminist.
So yeah, that's all I got. There is more to this Rabbit Hole if you are willing to go down, but that is the gist of it. I don't see how a woman who runs away from responsibilities, blames others for her failures, and would rather kill babies than do something hard is a feminist icon, but here we are. I don't really know how to end this. Uh, were you entertained?
Addendum: If you are of the Christian, Muslim, or Jewish Faith please comment below and clear up any misconceptions I wrote in this post. I will try to edit it to make it better. Feminists please try to be respectful in the comments. Sup Mods. Uh yeah, cool.

Addendum #2 - Mesopotamian Lilith:

Some people have been saying that I should analyze Lilith from Mesopotamian Origins as this would give her a more sympathetic view. Very well. There are three main sources: Tablet XII of the Epic of Gilgamesh, a Burney Relief, Arslan Tash amulets
Tablet XII of the Epic of Gilgamesh (Text we'll use): Lilith, a snake, and a bird steal a tree from a goddess and squat in it. Gilgamesh comes around kills the snake. The Bird flees. Lilith chimps out, destroys her home, and runs. Tbf, this is Gilgamesh, so I guess Lillith W?

The dyer (?) had not dyed his leather with it (?)
At its root the serpent, 'that knew not silence (?)' had made its nest
At its top the storm-bird (Zû) had put his young
In its midst Lilith had built a house
The shrieking maid the joyful
The bright Queen of Heaven tears for them (?) wept
His lady said a word to him
'Warrior Gilgamesh, its .... will thee'
The ibbaru garment that was of 50 minas from his loins he removed
What was 50 minas 30 ... . he made
His (?) brazen axe a road (?) his ....
1 talent 50 minas his in his hand he seized
At its root the serpent ' that knew not silence (?) ' he slew
At its top the storm-bird (Zû)
took his young (and) went away to the mountain
In its midst Lilith destroys (her) house

Burney Relief (Source): Yeah no

Even so, the possibility that the Queen of the Night plaque, with its high degree of skill in craftsmanship and attention to detail would be a representation of a lilitu is highly unlikely. According to the Hebrew tradition, Lilith was the first woman made by God who refused to submit to Adam's sexual demands and flew away, thus rebelling against God and his plans for human beings. She was thought to have then occupied the wastelands and, like the lilitu, to have preyed on unsuspecting men ever since. In either tradition, the lilitu was not a popular enough figure to have been portrayed on a plaque such as the Queen of the Night. Dr. Black notes, “Evil gods and demons are only very rarely depicted in art, perhaps because it was thought that their images might endanger people” (62). The mountain range depicted at the bottom of the relief is also thought to suggest lilitu identification in representing the wilderness the spirit inhabits but the headdress, the necklace, the rod-and-ring symbols and the significance of the plaque all go to argue against Lilith as a possibility.

Arslan Tash amulet (Source):

Whispering-incantation against the Flying-one, the oath of Sasam, son of Pidrišiša, god, and against the Strangler of the lamb: “The house I enter, you shall not enter And the court I tread, you shall not tread!He has made an eternal contract with us. Assur made a pact with us, all the sons of El,, and the great council of all the holy ones,With the oath of heaven and earth With the oath of Baal, lord of the earth With the oath of Horon, whose utterance is true,His seven concubines and the eight wives of Baal Qudš”[Written around and between the images] Oh Flying one, from the dark room pass away!Now! Now, night demons! [Written on the Sphinx figure] From my house, O crushers, go away! [Written on the wolf-like figure] Oh Sasam, let it not be opened for him And let him not come down to the door-posts The sun is rising for Sasam. Disappear, and fly away home.[Written on the axe-wielding figure](modified from Cross and Saley 1970 and Berlejung 2010).

So where the fuck is Lilith? Well the text in its original language features lly- which if you add a "t" could be llyt [Lilith], but it also can be ll wyn which means "night and day." So, yeah not exactly a Lilith W. And that's it. I don't know how this makes her sympathetic, but to each their own.

Addendum #3 - Lilith R*ped Adam?

u/howhow326 said that there was a tale about Lilith raping Adam and being thrown out of Eden. This intrigued me to search for it, but unfortunately, I can't find a source for this anywhere. The closest I get is this Blogpost, but this seems to be more of a hypothetical than anything. Frankly, I don't think this should be part of the debate.
Edit 1: Originally, there was a line that said : "Hell fucking Jesus gets mentioned the prophet of the ENEMY, but not Lilith." I have since been informed that this is a gross misrepresentation of the Muslim Faith, and it has been removed.
Edit 2: Spelling and Formatting Errors Corrected
Edit 3: Mesopotamian Lilith added. Lilith's Rape Accusations.

Introduction:

Hi everybody. Its me again. Now that Finals are over for me, I am able to participate a bit more for the next couple of months now. And a good thing too, because i really wanted to participate in this month's competition. Specifically, I latched onto the "No/Unique Ultimate" prompt, as I built an Udyr-esque champion about 2 years ago (Side Note: Damn, that was 2 years ago?? I was just starting college and now I am halfway through my degree. Man, time flies!), and it fit this prompt perfectly. This is the link to the original post, as I will be tweaking a lot of things, given how Items and Runes have changed significantly since then. and I will have tuned and tweaked some numbers as well.
To summarize from the Introduction in the other post, Umbara is designed as a Specialist, Auto-Attack based Jungler from Ixtal. The main gimmick is that, just like Udyr, she has no Ultimate instead she has 4 Basic Abilities. The kicker is that she has access to only 2 of said Abilities plus a Unique passive at any given time, and she transforms to get the other abilities and passive. This is probably the most mechanically intensive champion that I have ever created, and I am really proud of it, so I am re-submitting it here.P

Abilities:

Passive: Bloom of Life
Umbara is the Aspect of Nature, allowing her to use the Magic of the 4 seasons, allowing her Basic Attacks to scale with 100% AP instead of 100% AD. Additionally, she changes form based upon the current season, gaining a unique Passive and access to two abilities
Spring Form: Umbara gains a Stack of Wild Growth for every second in combat with Enemies, Minions and Monsters, up to a max of 5. Each Stack grants her 8% Attack Speed, and 6% Lifesteal and Spellvamp.
Summer Form: Enemies and Monsters gain a Stack of Wildfire every second in combat with Umbara, up to a max of 3 Stacks. Enemies take 5% Bonus Magic Damage for every Stack of Wildfire. When fully Stacked, each Stack of Wildfire deals True Damage instead of Magic Damage
Autumn Form: Umbara gains a Stack of Bleak Decay for Every Second in Combat with Enemies and Monsters, up to a max of 5. Her Basic Attacks and Abilities benefit from 7 Magic Penetration for Every Stack of Bleak Decay.
Winter Form: Enemies gain a Stack of Frostbite every second in combat with Umbara, up to a max of 3 Stacks. Enemies are slowed by 20% for every Stack of Frostbite they have. When fully Stacked, Umbara's next instance of Damage on an enemy will consume all Stacks, and stun them for 1 second.
Umbara will always start off in her Spring Form at the beginning of the game, and keeps her current form upon death. Every 90 Seconds, or after a Takedown, while out of combat, she will transform into the next form, in the order listed above. Every 180 Seconds, she will gain a Stack of Primordial Evolution, up to a max of 3 Stacks. She can spend 1 Stack to go to her next Form in the list, after which she has to wait 15 seconds before she can use a Stack of Primordial Evolution again.
Additionally, Umbara has no Ultimate Ability, instead she has a 4rth Basic Ability. She can only use 2 Abilities, her Primary and Secondary, per form. Her Primary Ability corresponds to her current form, and her Secondary Ability corresponds to her Previous Form:
Spring Form:
Primary: Vernal Dawn
Secondary: Steel Sleet Slash
Summer Form:
Primary: Devastating Drought
Secondary: Vernal Dawn
Autumnal Form:
Primary: Autumnal Awakening
Secondary: Devastating Drought
Winter Form:
Primary: Steel Sleet Slash
Secondary: Autumnal Awakening
The Cooldown of Each Ability depends on whether it it the Primary or Secondary Ability. Primary Abilities have a Cooldown of 8 Seconds, and Secondary Abilities have a Cooldown of 13 Seconds. She has access to all her abilities at Level 1, but they can only be leveled up 4 times instead of 5. Additionally, Cooldown Reduction affects the Primary and Secondary Abilities equally, however Ultimate Cooldown Reduction will instead reduce the time it takes to gain a stack of Primordial Evolution.
Q: Vernal Dawn
Passive: Umbara stores all Damage Taken while in Combat with Enemies, Monsters and Minions.
Active: Umbara calls upon the Power of Spring and gain a Shield equal to (100 + 0.055% Bonus Health)% of the Damage Stored for 3 Seconds, and Heal for 30/40/50/50/70% of the Shield's Value over 3 seconds as well. While she is Healing, or Shielded, she does not Store any Damage
W: Devastating Drought
Active: Umbara conjures up a Magical Flame and Blasts the area in front of her in the shape of a cone, dealing 140-60% Total AP + 10/15/20/25/30% Target Max Health Magic Damage, and reducing 40%-10% of all Enemies' and Monsters' Magic Resistance, who are still in the cone, depending on their distance from Umbara, for the next 8 seconds. Leveling up this ability increases the width and length of the cone
E: Autumnal Awakening
Passive: Enemies and Monsters damaged by Umbara gain a Stack of Wild Toxin for 8 Seconds, stacking up to 5. Affected Enemies have 20% Grievous Wounds for Every Stack of Wild Toxin
Active: Umbara Ignites all Stacks of Wild Toxin into Spirit Fire, consuming all Stacks that exist, and Dealing 50/65/80/85/110 + 2/3.5/5/6.5/8% Target Missing Health Magic Damage per Stack consumed to all Enemies who where affected by Stacks of Autumnal Toxin.
R: Steel Sleet Slashes
Active: Umbara empowers herself with Snow Magic, giving her Basic Attacks and Abilities 75 + 30% Bonus AP On-Hit Physical Damage for the next 5 Seconds. She can recast this Ability within those 5 seconds.
Recast: Umbara dashes to a nearby Enemy or Monster, and rapidly striked them 3 times. Each strike counts as a Basic Attack and applies On-Hit Effects. Additionally, each strike ignores 5% of the Target's Armor, stacking on top of the previous amount of Armor ignored. Leveling up this ability makes her strike the target an additional time. This abilities animation and speed is reduced by Attack Speed
If the target enemy moves out of range of this ability, it will pause for 3 seconds, during which is the enemy comes into range, this ability will resume. If they do not come into range within those 3 seconds, then this ability will go onto cool down immediately.

Lore:

Umbara was born Millennia ago to a family of Nomads. They where camped at the edge of Shuriman Desert and the Ixtali Jungles. While this was happening, a terrible Winter Storm was paving its way through the continents, the like of which have never before been seen again. Snow fell meters at a time, sleet rained like blades from the sky, and the temperatures dropped to below freezing, even in what was supposed to be the warmest portion of the day. Yet when she was born, the storm started to cease. In front of their eyes, the snow and sleet stopped falling, the temperature started to rise,a and the clouds dissipated. And where Umbara touched the ground for the first time, a beautiful flower bloomed, one that no one had ever seen before. Thus her surname became, "Winterbloom".
Even as a child, Umbara had a close relationship with Nature. Whenever she was angry and threw a tantrum, the clouds immediately disappeared, plants withered and died, and the heat increased to near lethal heights and when she was sad, sleet and hail would drop from the sky, and feet of snow would start falling as well. Whenever she became happy and joyful, the spring rains would fall, and the jungles around them bloomed like nothing else, and when she was melancholy or nostalgic, the autumnal season came. In her early years she had no control over her emotions, and thus the seasons ran wild, yet as she grew up she cut herself completely off from her emotions. This was a strange power, with the ability to produce devastating consequences. She knew that it was her responsibility to bear, and she willed that it would never be used again by her.
Everything changed when more humans came. Her parents and their group, once nomadic, had settled into a small village on the edge of the border of Shurima and Ixtal. Ixtal had always been eyed by Shurima for its vast forests and rich resources, and now the culling had arrived. Hundreds of Thousands of Sand Soldiers poured into the Jungles, razing nature and people alike. The Ascendants lead the charge, and powered by the might of the Sun Disk, they left a trail of pure devastation in their wake. Umbara was the first village to fall, being right at the border, though not without a fight. The Ascendants where not yet in command of the Soldiers, and in their uncontrolled destruction they awoke a terrible beast. By this point Umbara was alone in this world, her family having been carried off by a plague years earlier, yet even still she felt no emotions. Instead she dedicated her life to preserving and serving the nature around her, finding a deep beauty to it, and trying to find out anything about her powers. It was as if Nature itself called out to her. When the soldiers came, she and the others in her small Hunter-Gatherer village fought well, but where defeated. Most where killed or taken prisoner, doomed to be slaves for the rest of their life.
Yet when they came for her, Nature itself unleashed its wrath. She was not in control of her body anymore, instead the Aspect itself had taken control. Her eyes glowed a bright neon green, and a green aura surrounded her. Up until now it had been content to let the world be, and Umbara to lock away her gifts with it, but now it was time to stop the defilers in their tracks. Dark Clouds churned overhead, appearing almost instantaneously. From them a rain of sleet and hail fell, arriving with devastating force. The temperature spiked rapidly, creating forest fires so hot, Soldiers burned inside thier armor near instantly. All the creatures that the Shuriman soldiers where using on their crusade, all the horses, oxen, even the creatures within the jungles that the Soldiers hunted for food died, their flesh turning acidic and toxic. The Vanguard of the invasion was utterly decimated beneath this reign of chaos.
In an entire day, the Aspect halted the entire invasion, yet when the Ascendants came it was different. Up until this point the Aspect had taken control of Umbara's Body and utilized the gifts it had given her at Birth to enact its vengeance, suppressing Umbara's conscious up till now. But Umbara was stronger than the Aspect had expected. When the Ascendants came, Umbara had suppressed the Aspect once and for all. She was horrified at the destruction she had caused by being so weak to let her power take over her, and once again forsook the Aspect's gift, repressing the Aspect itself nearly entirely. THe Ascendants easily found and captured her.
She let herself be captured, let herself be sold into slavery, let herself take the brutal punishments of her master, all as repentance for her mistake. Through all of this, she still suppressed her emotions and powers, though not nearly as well as she had thought. The Aspect could have taken over her body at any point, yet it was curious. Never before was it heard of that a mortal had resisted the power of an entire Aspect, and the Aspect wondered if it had finally found the perfect host. It had already given Umbara many gifts when she was born, yet she controlled them, and sacrificed an entire part of her personality to keep them under control. She had even devoted herself to Nature entirely as a way to understand her gifts even further. It watched for years as Shurima grew stronger, and Ixtal became a vassel state. It watched for years over Umbara, as she endured multitudes of pain, agony and hard labor as a penance.
The Aspect eventually devised a test for Umbara. One night, after a particularly harsh lesson from the Master, as Umbara slept, it gave her access to all of its' powers. It didnt take over her body this time, but the Aspect's powers where temporarily hers. it wanted to see what would be done with it. Would she waste them pettily by killing her master, escaping and then getting caught back again? Or would she demonstrate the same restrain she had earlier? The latter outcome came true in the end. Umbara felt a change within her that night, an increase in power, similar to what she felt when she stopped the Shurimans, yet without the extra-worldly force controlling her. She had vowed to never use it herself, and still kept this vow, but at the same time, she knew that it was within her, and it scared her deeply, fearing still a loss of control. For another set of years, she endured her self-punishment, feeling that no amount of it could redeem her self, and even through the multiple sales to different masters, even under the pain of the whip, even under the threat of death working amongst other slaves, she kept it to herself. Umbara was captured when she was a teenager at the age of 16, and now she was 27. She had kept her powers under control for so long, and quite impressively that the Aspect was satisfied.
It sent the the Aspect of Twilight to bring her to the peak of Mount Targon. It took many weeks, but the Aspect of Twilight, in its host, found Umbara. She tried to buy Umbara from her master, but he was having none of it, being a very suspicious and jaded person. Shurima had long finished its conquest of Ixtal, and thus good slaves where hard to come by. The Aspect of Twilight was having none of it. Diplomacy having failed, it secretly freed Umbara in the middle of the night. They started their journey back to Targon. Along the way she fed hydrated the malnourished Umbara, and explained all about the Aspects, the different one, their powers, responsibilities, and that she was destined to become the Host to the Aspect of Nature. Umbara herself did not believe any of this at first, and eventually when she did, she rejected the offer of the Aspects. Guilt and horror still overcame her, even 11 years later. She oft woke up screaming at night, as she dreamed of the destruction her body had caused, and only being able to watch it. She escaped multiple times, and attempted to again sell herself into the Shuriman work horse, yet every time she did, the Aspect of Twilight bought her back. Once they crossed over into Targon, Umbara gave up on escaping, as this was a wholly foreign land, and instead tried to end herself multiple times, yet she threw herself off a cliff, a portal would appear and dump her back on the path. Eventually they reached the peak of Mount Targon, and the Aspect of Nature itself spoke to her.
It told her many a things. It admitted to giving her gift at birth, it praised her for her sacrifice to control these gifts, it admitted to taking over her body to defeat the Shuriman Army, it recognized her conviction to her word, even after many years of abuse. It spoke many more things, yet Umbara was in shock. A Divine entity, hitherto she had never even heard of was speaking to her, and telling her how her life had been shaped for this very moment. She then felt once more, a feeling of Guilt, but this time it was mixed with a sense of Duty. She contemplated her life thus far, wondered if this was what she was meant to do in life? She remembered when she first suppressed her emotions, and in extension her powers, when her family died of a plague and she felt nothing for fear of unleashing it all, she remembered all the years of study and introspection in the Wilds of Ixtal, as she sought to understand what where these powers, and why she of all people had them. The Aspect's final words before its offer, was praising her for her restraint and her sense of duty. Nature itself was a benevolent being, yet when triggered it was a force not to be toyed with, and Umbara displayed all these qualities.
In the end, she accepted the Aspect's offer, and in view of all the other Aspect's and their hosts, she transformed. A Beam of Bright Green light surrounded her. Raw natural energy flowed through her. And she came out a different person entirely. Her eyes glowed green. Her hair, once brown, was now shamrock green. All scars and imperfections on her body where healed and removed. She now wore a white dress outlined in colors reflecting the current season, replacing the tatters that she had worn as her time as a slave. And her powers grew exponentially as well.
The Aspect of Nature had not just taken Umbara for its Host, they had instead fully merged together, something only few Hosts and Aspects have managed to do. Their conscious was one, their memories one and their power one. Every single experience, memory and power of the Aspect was no Umbara's giving her a eternity's worth of experience and knowledge to pull from. Umbara now wielded the Bident of Nature. The 2 pronged Scepter exuding the power of the Seasons, just as her powers had before, but now instead of attuning itself to her emotions, she had free will over them. Finally, with this power, comes the final Gift of Nature itself. Nature is unending, it can never be fully destroyed, and it will always regenerate. The Aspect's Host is considered immortal unless the physical body of the Host is irreversibly destroyed, otherwise it will regenerate over time, no matter the injuries. There was no more Aspect and Host anymore, there was only Umbara.
For Millennia, Umbara was the personification of Nature. She watched as time flowed around her, and she protected Nature around the world. She watched as the Host to the Aspect of Twilight died, and became good friends with the new one, Myisha. She watched as Azir's ambition led to the fall of Shurima, and she spit upon his final resting place. When the Great Darkin War began, she was instrumental in not only protecting her domain, but also proposed a scorched earth method to ending the Darkin once and for all. Hellfire and Sleet rained from the sky, the oceans churned and the sand of the Shuriman Desert swirled under her wrath. She nearly succeded in destroying the Darkin once and for all until Mysiha taught the mortals how to seal them away. When Myisha died, she mourned her, and became a Mother figure to the new Host to the Twilight Aspect, Zoe. Now, as the Noxians have sown chaos and discord over the natural world in Ionia, Umbara unleashes her Anger. Nature is benevolent, until it is crossed, then it becomes veangeful. These traits where reflected in Umbara, making her the perfect host to the Nature Aspect. She changed the weather on the Noxians, made the Seasons so severe that they oft retreated under threat of death. She sank their fleet, burned their crops, killed their livestock and healed and preserved the Ionian wilds.
Now, several new issues have appeared in Runeterra. Ionia itself is forgetting about Nature itself, and becoming no better than the Noxian scum. Azir has been resurrected, and with him the bastardly Ascendants. The Frejlord is in chaos as the followers of Volibear wreak havoc, and the Demigods stand idly by. Targon itself has two rogue Aspect Hosts, both of whom have no respect for Nature either. And on top of this, the void has been unleashed in parts of Shurima, destroying anything and everything in its path. Through all of this, Umbara watches, waiting for the right time to strike, and when she does, the world hath better be ready, for the might of Nature has not been released in millennia, and none thus far are prepared for such a harrowing, nor on this scale.

Quotes, Interactions and Appearances:

Pick and Ban Quote:
Pick Quote: All that Blooms, can also Wilt!
Ban Quote: Nature waits for no one but me!
Special Interactions:
Aatrox: You where sealed away once before, NOW YOU DIE!
Anivia: There is more Weather than Snow, Cryophoenix.
Azir: You where better as Sand, let me turn you back to it!
Diana: Host or not, I will defend my domain!
Ivern: My praises, Green Father.
Kennen: You should learn something new, Lightning Lord!
Leona: As I told your lover, my power Eclipses both of yours. Don't forget it!
Maokai: One day, we will restore your home.
Nasus: You should have stayed in your Library, Ascendant! All the knowledge in the world cannot save you now!
Ornn: Balance will be bought back to the Frejlord, with or without you!
Pantheon: Do what you will Pantheon, we have no grievances, nor will I make any.
Renekton: The Butcher indeed! Your blood waters my garden!
Swain: Your Dark Magic is a Defilement on the land. I will purge you and your sin from it!
Udyr: You think nature is your ally? You merely adopted it, I was born with it!
Volibear: End this, or I will!
Umbara's appearance changes depending on her form. She has Shamrock Green Hair, Pale Skin and wears a white dress. The Dress itself is is outlined and has designs in colors depending on her form. Summer Form is Dark Red, Autumnal Form is Orange, Winter Form is Light Blue and Spring Form is Light Green.

Analysis:

So for the Analysis portion, I will be going over what changes I made, as I did rework a lot of stuff. Looking back, there are some quite absurd stuff that I wrote in the old post, like 30% Max Health True Damage for example. At the bottom is a full change log that you guys can see, and I will keep that updated if there are any other changes I make before the voting stage.
A lot of my changes where in the spirit of aligning things more closely with how I want this champion to function. I want this champion to be an AP Bruiser of sorts, akin to Gwen, Diana and Mordekaiser in the jungle. I really took a lot of inspiration from Mordekaiser's builds of Riftmaker, Liandry's Rylai's, but I also wanted to make things like Malignance and Blackfire Torch and Nashor's Tooth potentially viable as well. The goal was to make her abilities scale not with primarily damage but with other stats. For example, Vernal Dawn's shielding and Healing is based on Bonus Health, While Steel Sleet Slashes scale with the amount of Strike it can make. This means that you can build things like a Riftmaker and not be punished for building not raw Damage.
The Passive is where I made a lot of changes. Specifically, I reduced the Stack count from 8 and 5 to 5 and 3. Keeping 8 stacks on an enemy is just not viable, given that they will most likely have some form of mobility to get away and let the stacks fall off, or if it is a sort of champion that wants extended fights like Darius, Aatrox, etc then they are going to very much stat check you unless you are in your Spring Form. Overall, the stack count is down, but to compensate the stats and effects per stack is up. Everything comes out roughly even at max stacks. The other major component I changed is how Ability Haste affected Umbara. Now that there is significantly reduced CDR on Mage/AP Items in general, I think it is safe to allow CDR to affect normal abilities now, especially given that the items that have CDR are Bruiser-y items anyway. Ultimate CDR via Ultimate Hunter and Malignance now affect how Primordial Evolution stacks. The one thing in retrospect that I did not want was having players use primordial evolution to liberally change their forms at will, as the entire point of this champion was the 4 Seasons and balancing different playstyles and effects. To that end, I made Primordial Evolution Stacks take much longer to get, however if you really wanted to, then a fully Stacked Ultimate Hunter + Malignance reduced the CD by about 1/3 which is still significant enough that it makes speccing into these items viable, at least at first sight. Beyond that, i also reduced the lock out time of using a stack of Primordial Evolution, as the goal of Primordial Evolution is to give a way for players to get the right/needed/wanted form before major objectives without disrupting the overall cycle of the Seasons.
As I mentioned above, I reworked a lot of how the abilities scale, so that she can be that AP Bruiser Champion. Vernal Dawn no longer has an absurd Healing and Shielding Ratio, but rather now scales with Bonus Health a la Riftmaker, Liandry's, Rylai's etc. This is also much healthier design, as healing and shielding that much is absurd, and this keeps the essence of the ability intact while keeping her on track.
Devastating Drought has a significantly higher AP scaling when Champions are close to Umbara, and deals Max Health Magic Damage, however realistically this would only max out if an enemy is so close that the models are basically overlapping. Its hard to describe and tune such things without a diagram and actual models, so just assume that the scaling is reasonable enough to not be absolutely bonkers for the sake of the champion design. The main idea behind this ability, which is that leveling it up increases the cone size, is still intact, all that is changed is the damage.
Autumnal Awakening got a lot of number re-tuning to make it more balanced and useable. Again, the Stack count is down because 8 is just unrealistic in modern League, and thus the damage has been amped up a bit to compensate. In addition, it now deals Missing Health Damage, and this is because it is intended to function more as a Conditional Finishing tool rather then an engage or simple damage nuke.
Steel Sleet Slashes, I made a lot more conditional but I also reworded a lot of things to be more clear. Most importantly, since leveling up this ability added an additional strike, If it was a simple Pantheon W then anybody in range would get obliterated once you level this up a bit. Pantheon W is anyway super un-fun to play against, so this was an automatic red flag in my book, so I balanced it on when enemies come into and leave the range of the ability. When they leave, there is a small window where if Umbara can reach them again, the ability will resume, otherwise it goes on Cooldown. This way, if you have mobility you can use it to escape the onslaught of damage, and if you do not then Umbara in Winter Form is designed for you to die to.
In terms of build, I really see some combination Rylai's, Riftmaker, Blackfire Torch, Malignance, Liandry's, Demonic Embrace and Nashor's Tooth being core items on her, depending on how you want to play her. Umbara really synergizes with DoT effects and Bruiser items, however hybrid Assassin-Bruiser items like Nashor's Tooth I can see being viable, especially given that she can be a viable assassin for half the time if you spec into it. At the same time, you are Bruiser for the other half the time, and the abilities you have still function on Bruiser items, so you can certainly spec into the other side. In total, I would forsee her having a lot of build variety and the ability to switch gears on a whim.

Change log:

May 11-12, 2024:

• Passive: Bloom of Life
  • Spring Form Passive: Max Stacks 8 > 5, AS and Lifesteal adjusted to be the same at Max Stacks. Spellvamp added.
  • Summer Form Passive: Max Stacks changed from 4 > 3. Bonus Magic Damage Ratio changed from 2.5% > 5% flat. 5% more Bonus Damage at Max Stacks
  • Autumn Form Passive: Max Stacks 8 > 5. Magic Pen per stack increased 5 > 7. 5 Less Magic Pen at max Stacks but still 35 Magic Penetration
  • Winter Form Passive: Max Stacks 4 > 3. MS Slow increased per stack, but overall 10% less slow at full stacks. Changed wording to be more clear
  • Form Transformation will occur out of combat instead of immediatly.
  • Primordial Evolution charge time 120 > 180 seconds.
  • Primordial Evolution lock-out time reduced from 30 > 15 seconds.
  • Max Stacks of Primordial Evolution reduced 4 > 3 (using 4 stacks puts you at the same form, therefore its pointless)
  • Cooldown Reduction now affects Basic Abilities, and Ultimate CDR now affects the time for Primordial Evolution
• Q: Vernal Dawn
  • Shield value changed to (100 + 0.055% Bonus Health)% of Damage stored
  • Heal amount changed to 30/40/50/50/70% of the Shield's Value
• W: Devastating Drought
  • AP Ratio changed to 140-60% Total AP + 10/15/20/25/30% Target Max Health Magic Damage
  • Magic Resist Reduction now applies for the next 8 seconds instead of only benefiting this Ability
• E: Autumnal Awakening
  • Max Stacks reduced 8 > 5
  • Grievous Wounds per Stack increased 10 > 20%
  • Damage per Stack changed to 50/65/80/85/110 + 2/3.5/5/6.5/8% Target Missing Health Magic Damage per Stack
• R: Steel Sleet Slashes
  • Slightly re-worded
  • Reworked slightly
    • Active now empowers Basic Attacks
    • Recast is a Dash + Striked
    • Moving out of range pauses strikes for 3 seconds

I feel like that with any addiction a huge part of it comes down to physical limitations, like chemical depencies, changes on brain structure etc. But some of it comes down to the mindset of that specific person. And I see in this subreddit (and I dont mean to be disrespectuful to the community) an environment for failure and dangerous lines of thought. Almost half of this subreddit, if not more is relapse posts or people at day 0, or even posts talking about the addiction itself and not how to overcome it. I have been on nofap communities for 4 years now and there is no secret formula to sucess but to actually have a shot at sucess you have to believe it and LET IT GO. If you see posts daily about pornography, even if they are anti pornography your mind takes notice. And your thoughts start revolving around porn and doubt kicks in. Eventually, constantly thinking "dont watch porn" every hour becomes "watch porn" because you are basically thinking about the same thing and entertaining it. Let it go, and believe that you can let it go. Search out new interests and forget about porn or masturbating, because in reality it is only pleasurable because it feeds your reward system, like food, but does not make you happy. I am sorry if this isnt good advice, but I feel like many people become too caught up on streaks and no fap strategies and focus way too much on abstaining porn instead of replacing porn by something else. "The truth is, you don’t break a bad habit; you replace it with a good one.” is a good quote that basically sums up my post, start obsessing over something else. Over something good
And I also wanted to start a discussion about how porn addiction is becoming more popular. The birth of "Gooning" is the perfect example of this. For those who dont know, it is the fetishization of porn addiction and is often involved with "worship" porn and even "femdom" fetishes. There is a whole porn subreddit that is about trying to quit porn addiction but not being able to. We are living in bad times, I urge any teenagers to avoid at all costs weird fetishes like this because it will brainwash you even more. Basically, to sum up my post I would say that we as a community need to make new strategies, strategies that are not only about abstaining from porn but creating something new entirely. For example, this is how I would tackle porn addiction now with all my experience:
1) take note of times where porn is triggered
2) create or envision a new habit that you actually care about and excites you every single time that you do it, but is actually healthy and not tiring.
3) at the time of the triggers indulge in the new habit and change your environmnent to reflect that new habit.
(like your phone, instead of being a gateway to porn could be a gateway for reasearch or watching informative or captivating videos)
4)Start new lines of thought troughout your day about your new interests or habits. (because the only way to stop thinking about women or naughty things is by replacing it by something more interesting)
5) Hold on to the thing you are actually interested about and when being triggered changing yours thoughts imeddiately and occuping them with something else. because simply changing thoughts is not effective until you are occupied with another one.

My bridesmaids were going to order from Eshakti. I’ve been shopping with them for nearly a decade and LOVE the quality, unique styles, and most of all the inclusive custom fit. We want to find dresses that are floor-length and fit a medium, a 3x petite who always has bust tailoring needs, a pregnancy bump, and a young teenager. And on a budget, of course. Trying to stay under $100 per dress.
Eshakti seemed perfect but the first dress we ordered was delayed three months, never arrived, and they haven’t processed a return still. It sounds like their business, quality and customer service has really been suffering. It’s such a pity; it was gorgeous dupioni and embroidery with a hint of velvet on the waist, customizable so the teenager could get it without cleavage!
Azazie is the next best but all the styles are either standard bridesmaid chiffon or clingy silk that I know my larger bridesmaids feel uncomfortable in. Plus, dresses I’ve had from them when I was a bridesmaid have always needed hemming at minimum and that’s REALLY expensive; I’ve never been quoted less than $100 for hemming an Azazie dress. My last bridesmaid dress from them cost over $250 when all was said and done.
Any ideas? I’m heartbroken about the Eshakti news. Us plus-size girlies are missing out!

Lately TF has been out of control. Which makes me think she’s been a long term narcissist and in the past felt the need to cover it to be a good girl and sell albums. Now however, she realized that people love her for who she truly is - an AntiHero, and she’s able to enable the self-victimizing Karen’s to be their true selves, so she doesn’t even try to hide how narcissistic and greedy she is anymore.
SHE CANT PUT THE MASK BACK ON!!!
Give her a few years she’d prob have a child via a surrogate on her own (quoting medical issues and fear of pregnancy, and tells the public nobody should control what a woman does with her own body even if it means using a poorer woman’s body) and then be the type of mother like Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest, just from her untreated distrust of family and need to take advantage of people around her, her being threatened by the new generation and perpetual need to stay in the spot light, and her tendency to be abusive.

1. She robbed a teenager Olivia Rodrigo by getting a huge cut from her most popular songs, which assume she did by threatening legal action. Legal action from TS would’ve been damaging and financially costly for Olivia Rodrigo, so even though the law was on the Rodrigo side as the songs were nothing alike, she caved in. Olivia mentioned in her song The Grudge that a call betrayed all her trust and shattered her world, and “you have everything and you still want more.” TS then proceeds to invite Rodrigo’s enemy Sabrina Carpenter on stage on opening night of Rodrigo’s concert and mess with Rodrigo in a billion little ways. She then wrote iwannagetyouback copying Rodrigo’s “get him back!” as a second fuck you to Rodrigo. This is what I would expect from a cartoon villain.

She’s 34 and hanging out + enabling with a teenager’s bullies lmao I can’t.

1. She for some reason stole food from a middle class black family in the Anti-Hero music video. Just watch that video and tell me if she is a narc or not. Who with a healthy mindset would write a song about their useless children fighting over inheritance and being killed by her daughter in law? Do you know any other singer in their right mind that writes a song humiliating nuclear family members that’s not even born yet?
   
2. TS only advocates for TS. She for some reason did not speak out for Joe, or the women associated with Joe via work, about being attacked by her insane fans. This is all after cucking her bfs and admitting to cheating many many times.
   
3. Blaming her fans for not being able to be with a racist guy who did the nazi salute. I’m sorry you’re a billionaire!!! You can go off to an island with him for the rest of your life and nobody would find you. This is not Romeo and Juliet. I can’t be with the boy of my dreams because my woke fans that’s made me a billionaire don’t support it so let me mock you at my concert? What? What’s stopping you from living your best life besides you want MORE MONEY, want to sell more cheap quality over priced merchandise, and concert tickets?
   

If you prefer fame and money over your obsession of racist boy, that’s on you. Don’t call it true love either, it cheapens love. Love is unconditional, it’s when you can go broke for being together but you still make it happen, not a billionaire moping about being controlled by her own greed.

1. She sued a college student for tracking her extremely wasteful jet usage which is also public data. Not to mention her lawyer was trash and that demand letter was embarrassing.

Guys, the mask slipped and she can’t put it back on. Expect more craziness and enjoy the ride.
Edit - ok I didn’t know Matty didn’t say the racist stuff and since there’s multiple articles about it I believe it. Actually makes me feel better about Matty. Which makes it even less sensible to blame fans for the breakup instead of just clarifying things about him to the public. Or again, but a country/island and move there without public criticism considering she’s a billionaire

As with all my stories, there has and never will be a season 8. All my stories "Always" pick up from Hollander's Woods. I've fudged their ages a little to fit the narrative.
Kate was browsing on her I-Pad at vacation destinations. She took a sideways glance at her husband next to her, they were both leaning up against the headboard. He was on his computer consumed in his latest story. She put her head against the headboard and closed her eyes for a minute. Eighteen years, they've been married over 18years, with 3 kids all teens. She just turned 52 and Her husband's next birthday would be his 62nd. Kate opened her eyes and looked at him again. His hair was 50% white, and he had to wear glasses for close up writing and reading. She thought he was still the sexiest man alive, and they still went at it like teenagers.
Rick felt his wife staring at him. he mischievously placed his hand on her thigh and started running it up her leg. Kate blurted out, "Oh no you don't lover boy. Not tonight. Do you know that I had to limp into work this morning, from that acrobatic move you put me in last night... Rick, I just don't bend like that anymore!
Her husband chuckled, "I didn't hear you complaining last night".
Kate huffed, "Yeah well it's like when you get drunk, your happy in the moment but there's hell to pay the next day". She hit him in the arm and said, "They were laughing at me at work, at least the women were. I had a couple of them yell out, "Hey Captain what did you and Rick get up to last night." Kate, remembering their last night session smiled and said, "I feel like I've pulled something in my hamstrings. You have to be aware that I'm 52, and I don't bend like I used to.
"Never thought I'd hear that my wife would concede that I was too much man for her", Castle laughed.
"Oh, really mister big shot stud, what about last year when they had to peal you out of the limo. You threw your back out for 3 weeks", Kate smiled at the recollection.
Castle chuckled, "Well it seemed like a good idea at the time, I must have misjudged the dismount".
Kate laughing said, "And then on top of everything they drag you out of the Limo and you've got my underwear in your hands. Then you proceed to put my underwear on your head and started yelling out to everyone that you were the Frito Bandito. I still can't look at Ken (the limo driver) anymore without him looking at me with a big smirk on his face".
"I blame you for that. That Policeman's Benefit Gala you dragged to was boooorrring!... I think I had too much champagne trying to get thru the mind-numbing conversations that were going on. I know you were obligated to go, but my god it was like watching paint dry, but your right honey from now on I'll take your age into account when I pull my special maneuvers". Castle smirked.
She looked at him and smiled, "Shut Up".
They went back to what they were doing. They had always been comfortable in their silence. Being together was all that they needed. Castle noticed his wife was running her hands up and down his arm. After they had gotten engaged years ago, he noticed she was really a big cuddler and toucher, which had surprised him, but since the incident 4 years ago it had gotten much more noticeable. Rick thought back in his head to that day.
4 years ago, Castle and Kate had been in the kitchen. She had a rare day off from work, the kids were in school, so it was just them. When all of a sudden, he had started to clutch his chest. He had yelled out to Kate, and she started calling 911. Kate was in tears as they had wheeled him into the hospital. They had found out that he just had a major panic attack due to high levels of stress. Gina and Paula had swamped him in Book tours, and Book signings, plus were pushing him about his next novel, and it had just been too much.
When they got home Kate had gone into a tirade. "Rick" she yelled, "Give me your phone. I'm taking over management of your dealings with Black Pawn and Paula from now on and I don't want to hear a single argument from you about this", as she pointed a finger at him, "Dammit Rick, your just too nice for your own good, you don't know when to say no. This Fucking stops today, Rick, do you hear me. No More"!
Castle sheepishly had handed his phone over to her and said, "Sorry honey".
"Oh Baby, I'm not mad at you, I just want my husband to not be bullied". She then grabbed his phone and stalked off into his office. He listened in from the outside.
Kate had lit into Gina and Paula from the get-go, "Do you know what? Rick and I just came back from the ER, because we thought he was having a heart attack. It ended up having a massive panic attack, due to the stress he's been under trying to keep up with this fucked up schedule that you've both been trying to ram down his throat. I'm here to tell you that this shit is going to end now. From this point going forward, I will be handling all of Rick's obligations, and let me tell you this, we are going to be cutting waaayyyy back on everything!
Rick had heard his ex-wife Gina start to yell back at Kate, but Kate shut her down right away. "Gina, one more word from you, and Rick and I will start looking at over the dozens of prominent Publishing houses that have offers for him to come over to them. His graphic novels, children's books, serious Literature, and the occasional Nikki Heat books have him at the top of authors in the fucking world. We don't need either of you anymore. Rick continues to be loyal to Black Pawn because they gave him his start, but I don't share that loyalty. Are both of you fucking hearing me? I want my husband with me forever, and I will no longer allow you two to use his kindhearted nature against him anymore. Paula, send me a revised schedule that reflects a much lighter load, Rick and I will go thru them, and then you will get what we think is fair. It will be non-negotiable, you don't like it, then that's fine by us, because I will make both of you, yesterday's news. The days of you using my husband as your personal gravy train are over, and Gina listen to me well, if you try to go behind my back and try to contact Rick on your own, I will fucking bury you... Now, I need to hear that you both understand".
Paula said, "Kate I'm so sorry, I didn't know that Ricky was struggling with the schedule, I always think of him a machine. Tell Ricky I'm sorry, and hope he feels better. I'll get on that new schedule right away"?
Kate barked out "Gina I'm not hearing anything from you". Rick heard silence for what seemed forever, and then he heard his ex-wife yell back, "Fine", and then she hung up.
He remembered Kate running off to their bedroom and finding her in their bed crying. As he got in bed with her and held her tight, she buried her face in his chest and said, "I can't be without you Babe... I Can't... I just Can't." He remembers telling her, trying to get her to smile, "Hey honey nice use of the Senator Bracken quote when you saved his life... I'll fucking bury you... that's a classic!
Kate had chuckled thru a sob, "Well that douchebag was at least good for something".
He then assured her that he was going nowhere, and that they would have their always. After that incident and all the free time that opened due to Kate managing his time, he had got back into the gym and started working out again. He had built up some muscle and had lost 20 pounds. Kate told him how proud she was of him and noticed how she liked to fondle his biceps even more then she usually did.
A couple of months ago she told him that she was putting in her 30 and was going to retire from the force. She told him that she wanted to spend more time with him and the kids. He knew his wife; she was probably thinking that time was slipping away from them and wanted to make their moments count. It's not like that thought hadn't occurred to him too. Castle broke from his reverie, as he heard of in the distance, "Babe, are you even listening to me? Rick...Rick".
He turned to look at his wife, "Sorry honey, I'm sorry, I went off into la la land again".
Kate smiled and said, "So, where did you go this time in that amazing brain of yours? Good thoughts?"
"Honey, when I think of you their always good thoughts." he replied.
"I love you too, you big sap. Anyway, I was thinking about just you and I going on a vacation. For maybe 3 weeks. I've already looked into it, and I think that everything will line up. I called downtown, and 1PP said that Javy could take over as captain while I'm gone, it will give him some experience for when I retire, and he takes over. Alexis and David (her husband of 5 years) said that they were thinking of going to the Hamptons for the summer, so they could watch the boys along with Lanie. You know Lanie, any excuse to stay in the Hamptons with the boys, plus Lilly told me of a summer program starting at Columbia that was promoting classes for advanced kids that want to learn languages especially Russian, and she asked if she could go."
"Will there be boys there, I worry about Flower on her own"? Castle asked.
Kate smiled at him calling his daughter, Flower. He had called his daughter Little Flower since she was a baby. Kate had actually asked Lilly if she wanted her Dad, to stop calling her Flower, and she was taken back, at how panicked her daughter had gotten. Lilly had started to cry, and said, "No, Mom, don't say anything to Daddy, I love that he calls me Flower. He can call me that forever". Kate, had to calm her down and reassure her that she would say nothing.
"Babe, flower will be fine. I'll have Javy run a background check, on everyone involved, but she's going be fine. (Rick still had the occasional nightmare from when Alexis was kidnapped, so she had to walk a fine line when broaching Columbia). "Look Rick she's growing up; she needs to have the reigns loosened a little and see that we can trust her.
Castle turned his head to her, and she saw that he was fighting back tears. "I just need to know that she's safe Kate. I couldn't bear anything happening to her. We'll all sit down and look at the program tomorrow, and I promise if all goes well on the background check that she can go. Okay"?
"Okay Babe, but you need to have an open mind on this. Take it from a someone that knows what it's like to be a teenage girl. You hold the reigns to tight; they start to feel strangled. Remember how you and Alexis went back and forth when you were trying to hold on to tight? If the background check comes out clean you need to let her go.
Castle sighed, and said, "Okay honey she can go, I don't want to hurt her feelings, but it won't make me worry less. I want daily phone calls from her. No exceptions".
Kate knew that Lilly was a Daddy's girl, and that he was very protective of her much like he was of Alexis. Kate always knew he would be an amazing father but watching him over the years had simply amazed her. The kids adored him, he was so attentive and loving, plus his world of imagination captured them from when they were little. Royce, wanted to be a writer since he was 7, and he wrote every chance he got. Castle told him how proud of him he was as he did with all the kids. James, (Royce's twin brother) was more like her, constantly getting into scraps trying to protect other kids from bullies. Kate had already started to work with him on the speed bag, and Rick always told James that he would-be a kickass cop just like his mother. Castle would spin stories of their exploits, making them so spectacular then even though she had lived threw them, she was still riveted in the way he had spun their tales. The kids always gasped at just what their parents had been thru before they were born. Castle and Kate had decided a long time ago that they would try as best they could to never tell them of just how close they had been to death so many times as partners, though Castle told her it was just a matter of time until they find out, considering how much of their exploits had made local and national news, so they always prepared for that day.
Kate still to this day berated herself for those early years when she had pushed him away, she knew how much she had hurt him at times. He had become the light to her darkness, and she realized that every year that she had kept him at arm's length was a year that she could never get back being so helplessly in love with him.
Changing the subject Kate said to Rick, " Rick we need a vacation, I want just you and me to get away, you know I love our kids, but I miss my husband. I need this to happen Babe, I need alone time with you. I want it to just be us. Talk about anything we want, do anything we want, and know that there will be no interruptions".
"Honey", he replied, "You don't have to sell me on this, I'm all in. I even have an idea. Remember the year of our engagement when I told you about a college friend that turned into a billionaire by the age of 30 and bought his own island"?
Kate got excited and said, "Yeah...yeah, I remember saying that we should invite him to the wedding.
"Well, I just happen to know that he doesn't stay there anymore but he rents out the place for friends. It's a beautiful bungalow with all the amenities. They ship in food by boat, every 4 days. You can request scuba gear, jet skis, whatever, and they will be waiting for you when you get there. Plenty of booze to make tropical drinks, and the best part is that you hardly need any clothes, because it's a secluded Island. You can go naked, or bring just your thong, or bikini, but the point is that you can pack light. For emergencies their just 30 minutes away by boat. Just to let you know however, if you just wear your bikini underwear, I will have to confiscate them and turn into the Frito Bandito".
"You'll have to catch me first hot shot... Rick, do you think that you can find out tomorrow, to see if its available"?
"First thing in the morning honey", he winked.
A little while later Kate had fallen silent. Castle looked over at his wife and saw her fisting her hands in the sheets, she did that when she was broaching a subject that she felt insecure about. "What's going on in that gorgeous mind of yours honey".
Kate starred down at the sheets and whispered. "Do you still think I'm beautiful Babe? I was looking in the mirror this morning, and I just felt so ugly, I've got all these stretch marks, bullet scars, knife wounds and I've probably put on 10 pounds of baby fat that I can't get off. I look in the mirror sometimes and think why you still want me sometimes.
Castle put his computer away, and he rolled over to face his wife. 'Katherine Castle, I can't believe what just came out of your mouth", he ran his hands under her Green Lantern night shirt pulling it all the way up to her stomach, then proceeded to plant light butterfly kisses all over her stretch marks. Kate looked down, mesmerized at what her husband was doing. Castle rose up and pulled Kate's chin up to look into her eyes. Those eyes that he fell into from the moment he first met her.
"Honey, do you know how amazing and beautiful you are to me"? Kate's eyes misted over. "Kate", he said, "These marks show the strength and determination of my warrior woman, who gave birth to our 3 wonderful children and when doctors warned you that twins at 42 would be too great a risk, you told them to shove it up their asses, and you fought and fought to bring them into this world. Your bullets scars are our history of fighting for justice, and your determination to face down all the evil in this world... Remember the banquet we went to a few months ago"? Kate with tears in her eyes nodded. Castle continued, "Everywhere we went that night I watched as every man turned to look at you as you were clearly the most beautiful woman in the whole place. I wrapped my arms around you to let one and all know that you were mine. I'm still amazed even after all these years what I did to deserve such a strong, independent, loving mother and wife as yourself. I will always be grateful for the day that you became mine, and I always find you stunning. You take my breath away sometimes.
As her husband wiped the tears from her eyes she smiled and said, "Babe if I'd known what I know now I would have let you debrief me, when I first met you".
Rick chuckled and said, "And I would have still had no idea, and don't think for one second you were fooling anyone when you walked away from me down that alley, putting a major swing to those beautiful hips of yours, I knew what you were doing".
She smiled at looked at him under those long lashes, "I might have put a little more oomph into my walk. I could already tell that you were an ass man".
Kate rolled over and placed her head on her husband's chest. They went to bed almost always like that every night. Castle ran his hands thru her hair. As Kate slipped off to dream world, she mumbled, "Don't forget to call your billionaire friend tomorrow Rick", and then she followed that up with, "Love you Always Baby".
"Me too honey...Me Too. You are my dream come true. Until tomorrow honey".
"Night Babe", she mumbled.
Castle smiled remembering the day that Kate asked why he couldn't just say goodnight. He had replied, "Goodnight is boring, until tomorrow was more... hopeful", and she had said, "Well I'm just a cop Castle so... night". He smiled at that memory and thought to himself how he still occasionally had to pinch himself when he looked at his amazing children and the love of his life. He told Kate once that his dreams do come true. He looked at his wife, her head on his chest sleeping and he thought that he was the luckiest man in the world. He smiled as he fell asleep knowing that he would soon see her again... in his dreams.
Hope you liked!
Thinking of doing a sequel to this, where the kids find newspaper clipping of Casketts exploits and want to know more.

Can't remember the exact quote, but he talks about his blue bass and how he has learned since he was a teenager, but always had trouble applying himself because he was a singer "first" and because it comes so naturally it's hard to really commit to learning an instrument.

PART ONE THOUSAND AND TEN
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Sunday
Brock loved one aspect of being a teenager again, and that was the utter lack of responsibility that no first-time teen truly appreciated. He’d stolen a facsimile of that freedom over the last six months of his life as Angelo, though not in a good way. Back then, no one expected anything of him because he was a waste of oxygen that nobody except Robbie cared about.
Well, Mason and Sam were worried, but as the younger roommates, that was the extent of their capability. Now that he’d been handed the original formula, it was fun to wind everyone up by hiding behind the kid façade. Not so much when Robbie laid down the law, but the highs outnumbered the lows tenfold, such as nobody expected him to be up before lunchtime on a Sunday. So when he rolled out of bed with barely two hours to spare, he found the apartment practically a ghost town.
He whistled the words “Yoooohooo,” to see if anyone would respond, and no one did.
Dang.
Where is everyone?
The warmer was empty, and the fridge had the basics, but he wanted a Robbie meal, and he was sure his best friend in the whole world wouldn’t be holding out on him. He went over to the magic box covered by a dishcloth and lifted both the cloth and the lid in one move.
Nada. Nothing.
With a huff of disgust, he lowered the lid (minus the dishcloth since that slid over the back) and went to step away when he remembered the trick to the box. Well … crap! How was he supposed to know what Robbie had put in there for him? The only one who’d know for sure was Robbie, and he was probably out putting together a global grocery shop to restock their pantry after yesterday’s party.
Okay, think dumbass, he ordered himself. Robbie wouldn’t have left you something you couldn’t get to. He placed both hands on the magic box and drummed his fingers. “Alright, box. How do I make you cough up my breakfast?”
The answer was so obvious that he wanted to bang his head against the counter for not thinking of it sooner. Because Robbie’s innate is food. Stop asking what he made and ask yourself what it is you want for breakfast!
Dozens of options rolled through his mind, each sounding better than the last. And then he had it. “Nonna’s frittata,” he said to the box, already salivating, and he hadn’t even smelt it yet. He flipped the lid and filled the room with freshly cooked fluffy eggs and Grana Padano cheese. “Oh, holy mother,” he whimpered, practically drooling over the chunky potato pieces that, for some reason, many Americans left out of the traditional frittata. His Nonna had always called it a travesty.
“Come to Papa,” he declared, lifting the plate to his nose, and breathing in deeply. “Robbie, you’re the best,” he promised, shutting the magic box’s lid and patting it like a dog that had done well. He then went to the cutlery drawer and grabbed a knife and fork for himself. He didn’t worry about a drink because he was certain he could drown in the amount of saliva already dripping from his chin.
For the next ten minutes, he tried his very best to slow down and appreciate the meal. To remember all the good times he’d had with his grandmother before she passed away.
As always, when it came to his Nonna’s recipes, he was full by the time he finished, though he lifted the plate and licked the flavour-infused oil from the surface.
“Risparmio e il miglior guadagno,” he whispered, quoting his grandfather’s favourite defence about his wife’s cooking whenever she’d bust him doing exactly what Brock was doing now and chase after him with whatever wooden implement she had at the time.
Brock paused, then put the plate down and stared at it. He barely remembered what his grandfather looked like, but he’d remembered that. The stocky, no-nonsense, chain-smoking roadworker had died from lung cancer while he was still a toddler, and in that moment of reflection, he couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if Nonno had survived his fatal condition.
His mother certainly wouldn’t have gotten away with her drug use, and he wondered if Rocco and Giani would’ve gotten tangled up in the underworld if he’d been there to keep them on the straight and narrow. They were young to his old, but Nonno was still the patriarch – or had been.
Then again, if he had lived, Angelo wouldn’t have spent so much time on the streets or met Imogen, which led to Robbie being his best friend. He might still be Angelo instead of Brock…
“God works in mysterious ways,” his Nonna often quoted.
If only you knew, Nonna. I miss you so much.
He dropped the dish and cutlery into the dishwasher and went in search of everyone.
As always, he started with their side of the apartment first.
Since it was heading on for lunchtime, it didn’t surprise him that Charlie was gone. She was probably next door doing more car preparation for the racing driver Nascerdios, who was supposed to be coming by in the next couple of days.
For a second, he thought about knocking on Boyd and Lucas’ door and quickly decided that would be just as fatal as Nonno’s lung cancer. At the very least, Boyd would rip him limb from limb and beat him to within an inch of his life with each of them for bothering them the night after their engagement party.
That left Mason, and a light knock on his door had his friend calling out, “It’s open.”
Brock let himself in and was thrilled to see Mason in his work corner, with his fancy table alight and some sort of internal organ being dissected, his laptop open, and ten tons of paperwork scattered around him.
…mainly because it left something else in the room unused.
“Hey,” Brock said after glancing at the gaming corner and finding it just as he’d left it; fully closed up. “Any chance I could…?” His grin was all teeth as he rolled both pointer fingers at the gaming corner.
Mason growled and waved him off. “And you’re still going to find time to play basketball with us this afternoon, right?”
“Damn straight. I have to prove my superiority to all you losers,” Brock laughed, making a beeline for the coveted machine. He opened the folding doors and pushed them back into the same wall that shared the hallway. Then he kicked over the system, practically giggling with excitement as the whole thing slid and rolled like a Transformer shifting between forms.
And because he had been the last one to use it, the seating was still set to his specifications. He slid around the side and into the chair that was already angling itself with the footrests at the perfect height for him. He took the headset from the charger built into the back of the headrest and pulled it over his ears, twisting the microphone to sit in front of his mouth. “Ground Control to Major Tom,” he sang as the screens on the overhead brace came to life.
He saw rather than heard Mason snapping his fingers at him through the gap between the upper monitors and the keyboard and popped one ear out of the headset. “Yeah?”
“Keep it down, buddy. Some of us are trying to study.”
“Oh…sure. Sorry.” To make a point, he sucked his lips between his teeth and pretended to bite them, flipping both thumbs up at his friend.
Mason laughed and shook his head. “You’re still an idiot.”
You’re studying, and I’m gaming. Who’s the idiot again? Brock mused to himself as he returned the headset’s earmuff to his ear and began typing on the keyboard.
A quick log-in and scan of his character’s inventory and how the land around his base was situated (because leaving the game for days sometimes cost you as others raided your space), he headed out into the mainframe, appearing once more at the crossroads where he’d first met everyone.
Patalon was there, but he had the AFK sign above his head. “Awww,” he said, quickly shooting the orc tank’s player a ping chat to let him know he was available for some more fun if he was interested. Then he left the crossroads and headed ‘east’ towards the mountains.
* * *
The almost inaudible ding sounded like the biggest of Chinese gongs going off in the tiny room, and just like those types of summons, two men launched themselves over the back of the couch where they’d been watching TV and a third rolled off one of the three cots that were placed on the far side of the room. A fourth man rushed in from outside, having crushed out his cigarette on the doorframe, and all four leapt into their seats, each grabbing their receptionist-style headsets that only covered one ear from the back of their chairs.
“Now, this time, try not to stomp on his system so hard you warn him off,” the youngest of the four said from the far end said, as they all woke up their characters and converged on the gaming crossroad. “Or he might disappear for longer than a couple of days.”
“Fuck you. We’re getting paid to find this fucker’s scrawny ass, not pussy foot around forever holding our dicks,” another snapped. On a large monitor against the wall behind their consoles, they could all see the grid section of New York City. As brutal as Clay’s initial assault on the city’s network had been, it had narrowed the field from a global search to this city of eight million people.
The smoker ignored their banter and leaned forward to read the private message on his screen. “You can’t hide forever, Trevino.”
[Next Chapter]
* * *
((Author's note: going out tonight, so I put this out before I left. Enjoy!! 🥰😘💕 ))
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work, including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!